


The Rise of the True Dragons

by let_love_run_red



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Jon Snow - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Jon Snow, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Game of Thrones AU, Game of Thrones Spoilers, HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS, Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexual relationships, Homosexual Sex, Homosexuality, Jon Snow - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, OC, Original Character(s), Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous relationship, Polyamory, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Threesome - F/M/M, polyamorous jon snow, sansa is a bad guy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_love_run_red/pseuds/let_love_run_red
Summary: "I am Queen Vaehra dragonborn of the house Rahthone, first of her name, rider of Vilor the gold, the fire walker, Queen of the dragons, the riders, and the shapechangers, protector of the shadowlands, the grey waste, the Mossovy forest, the old Valyria, the new Valyria, and the thousand islands, bringer of light, and voice of the earth.""I am Aegon of Houses Targaryen and Stark, Sixth of His Name, the Resurrected, 998th Commander of the Night's Watch, the White Wolf, rightful heir to the iron throne."**This in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.





	1. Dragons in the North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reminder that this in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**
> 
> Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.

Since being sent back to the wall, life had been much less, exhilarating for Jon Snow. He had been in wars, seen life after death, fought the army of the night king, and ridden dragons. Nothing could compare to that, not even the wilderness of the far North. 

He trudged through the snow, leading his horse through the trees as he scanned the surroundings, watching for anything of interest. 

_"__I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory." _He was Jon Snow, born a Targaryen and raised a Stark. He had known power, known women, held lands. The celibate life of the knights of the watch didn't fit him anymore. He was grateful to be back in the North, where he felt at home, where Ghost could roam free and the wind whipped his cloak through the air. But there were certain things he missed.

He missed his sisters, Sansa ruling the North (which he had his apprehensions about), and Aarya sailing West of Westeros, likely about to sail off the edge of the world by now. He missed his father, not the Targaryen prince he'd never known, but the man who raised him. He loathed he was not the one to kill Joffrey Baratheon, the spoiled cunt who had ordered his father's head removed, his mother the reason the war started, he wish he could've driven a sword through her heart rather than hear Tyrion relay how she and Jaime had been crushed by rubble.

His horse chomped at the bit behind him as he walked, shaking it's head to brush off the light snowfall that was filtering through the trees.

He missed Winterfell, the noise of the courtyards, the sound of arrows piercing into targets, the huffs of horses, the laugh of Bran and Rickon as they ran through the courtyard while Robb walked with their father.

He missed Bran's innocence most of all. He hated to call the new King anything but his brother, but, Jon wasn't sure Bran was the same Bran he'd known all those years before. Before Jaime pushed him from the window, before his trek through the North, before he became the three eyed raven, before, before, before. The wars had changed him.

Though, there was nothing the wars hadn't changed. 

Jon was lost deep in thought as he walked, focused on following the footprints Ghost left in the snow as the direwolf trotted ahead of Jon and his horse.

Kings landing, now a pile of ash and rubble from when his queen, his beloved Queen Daenerys, had burned it to the ground with her dragon. The war changed her most of all, he believed. Jorah Mormont had told him stories of the Queen, stories of when her dragons were just eggs and she rode across the great grass sea with one of the greatest Dothraki hoards. Stories of when her dragons were young and she liberated the slaver cities of Essos, striking down her enemies and showing nothing but mercy and justice.

Oh how Cersei's actions had changed her.

Jon hadn't realized that Ghost had stopped in his tracks and almost tripped over the large wolf. Jon stumbled and swore, his horse jerking it's head against the reins Jon held in his hand. Jon straightened himself, turning to look at his horse and running a gloved hand over it's thick dark coat. He looked around the woods, realizing the sounds had stopped.

There were no howls of direwolves in the distance, no chittering of the white foxes, the birds made no sounds, not even the trees dared to whisper their names in his ear. He suddenly felt uneasy, glancing around warily. He slowly turned to his horse and mounted the saddle, settling himself on the horses back and turning the horse back the way he had come, whistling for Ghost to follow. 

As he rode, he listened for the sounds to return. but it only seemed the further he went, the quieter he got. Until he heard the horn of the wall sounding loud and clear through the sudden silence.

One burst

two bursts

three.

That was impossible, white walkers were gone, Aarya had killed the night king with a shard of dragon glass through his heart and the rest of the dead had gone with him. Jon kicked his horse into a gallop, following the sound as he headed towards the wall, his black cloak whipping behind him as the horse pounded through the heavy snow. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that faced him when he arrived at the wall. 

Dragons. There were dragons everywhere, in every color he could imagine. A blue dragon swooping through the air, dodging the spears and arrows thrown and launched in its direction, a black dragon perched atop the wall, watching as the blue dragon swooped through the sky, a gold dragon hovering in the air just out of spear range, and so many more. Green, red, gray, orange, yellow, even purple. Jon continued his gallop towards the gate, guiding his horse around a large snowdrift. 

His memory kicked into overdrive as the snow began to move, reminding him of how Drogon had risen from the snow drift before he had killed Daenerys. But this dragon was most definitely not Drogon. It was white, for starters, and it also had four legs with two wings protruding from it's shoulders. The dragon stood tall, shaking the snow off it's wings and whipping it's tail around before raising it's head and breathing a jet of fire into the sky. Jon's horse startled, rearing backwards unexpectedly and throwing Jon to the snow. Ghost ran to Jon's rescue, positioning himself between Jon and the dragon and snapping his teeth. The white Dragon sprang into the air, beating it's enormous wings to raise itself further into the sky. Jon scrambled to his feet and continued his run to the wall, banging on the gate and yelling in the feeble hope he'd be heard above the noise of dragons and the men yelling atop the wall. 

Jon risked a glance behind him at the dragons flying low, spotting something glinting off the chest of one green dragon. Looking closer, it appeared to be armor. Armor that covered the dragons chest and underbelly, ran up it's neck to join to a headpiece that rested between the dragons' eyes, armor that wound around the dragons tail and legs. These dragons weren't wild as Jon had thought, they belonged to somebody.

And the closer he looked at the dragons the more obvious that became. They flew in formation, dove together, rose together, followed a lead dragon. And as Jon looked even closer he could see saddles on the back's of the lead dragons. Jon pressed himself against the wall as the same white dragon as before came to a rolling halt in the snow, a giant's spear protruding from it's shoulder. It howled and chittered pain, attempting to scramble away as the men fired more arrows and spears towards it. Why wasn't this dragon wearing any armor?

Jon made a move to push himself away from the wall and run towards the dragon. He couldn't bear seeing it in pain. Yes, dragons were fearsome and destructive creatures, but as Jon had learned from Drogon and Rhaegal, they could also be benevolent and loving. None of these dragons had caused any damage to anything, they had just flown about castle black.

As Jon took a step towards the white dragon the ground in front of him exploded in a flurry of snow and ice. Jon covered his eyes, only to look up and see the large gold dragon that had previously been hovering above the action had landed next to the white dragon, large wings covered in metal plates spread as an umbrella over the dragon and the person now standing next to the white dragon.

The person working to pull the spear from the dragon's shoulder, glancing back to the gold dragon occasionally. Now that Jon could see one of the dragons without it moving, he could see that this dragon was easily twice as large as Drogon had been. Powerful muscles rippled beneath it's scales as the dragon shifted it's wings to cover the white dragon and rider more.

Jon shifted his attention to the rider. They were wearing a thick fur cloak, the ruff around their neck a deep red color, that of a fox's fur. On their head was a large helmet that mimicked a dragon's head. They wore trousers with leather patches on the seat, obviously made for heavy wear while riding, and a thick tunic. Jon watched as they wrapped their arms around the spear, bracing their foot against the white dragon's upper foreleg and pulling with all their weight. The white dragon let out a screech and a burst of flame that hit the gold dragon's wing. The gold dragon just shifted it's wing.

Jon made a haste decision, running towards the rider and the white dragon, darting between the gold dragon's legs. The gold dragon whipped it's head around to look at Jon, rearing it's head back and beating it's wings. Jon could see the fire forming in it's throat as Jon reached the white dragon, Startling the rider as he grabbed the spear and started to pull with the rider. The rider turned to the gold dragon.

"Vilor keligon!" They called, the shape of their helmet causing their voice to come out as a growl. The gold dragon swallowed it's fire and shook it's head with a resounding warble. Jon helped the rider pull the spear from the white dragon's shoulder. The dragon scrambled to it's feet with a few huffs and shook the snow off it's body. The rider turned to Jon and voiced their thanks, rushing back towards their dragon.

"Wait!" Jon called, the rider turned to look at him again. Jon found he had so many questions, yet none of them would come out.

"I'm Jon, Jon Snow." Jon called instead. The rider squared their shoulders and stepped towards him slowly, examining his features. The helm made it look like a small metal dragon was watching him rather than a human. The rider suddenly let out a shrill whistle, and the white dragon whipped it's head around to look at them. The rider said a few words to the dragon before the dragon lowered itself onto it's belly, flattening one wing against the snow.

"Go, go!" The rider shoved Jon towards the dragon's wing. Jon stumbled over the large limb, falling flat onto the outstretched webbing of the wing. The dragon chortled quietly as Jon stood on it's wing, the mysterious rider bustling him up the wing of the white dragon. Jon did as he was told and settled onto the dragons shoulders between it's wings, gripping the spikes that protruded from it's back. The dragon sprang into the air suddenly, and pumped it's powerful wings through the air as it rose, swooping over the wall towards the South. Jon suddenly had a great regret.

"tolvys jikagon!" He heard the rider call. The gold dragon rose into the air after the white dragon, letting out a bellowing roar to the rest of the flock of dragons and moving ahead of the white dragon. Jon glanced behind him to see the mass of dragons rising into the air, following the gold dragon towards Kings Landing.

* * *

Jon shifted uncomfortable on the white dragons back. This dragon was much larger than Rhaegal, and he was unaccustomed on how to ride the dragon with little to no discomfort. Looking to the others, he could see they were obviously comfortable on the backs of the dragons. Looking at the rider on the gold dragon, the same one who had pushed him onto the back of this dragon, they looked like they'd been born on the back of a dragon. He realized that with this person that was definitely a possibility. With any of these people really.

He heard a few chitters from the dragons around him as they glided through the air, wingtips brushing as they warbled and hummed to each other. He looked up to the white dragons head, watching as it looked around. Suddenly the gold dragon surged upwards, followed by the rest of the dragons. Jon startled and grabbed onto the spikes in front of him as his dragon rolled and tumbled through the air. Jon heard roars of laughter from the other riders as he looked around to see the other dragons flipping through the air, folding their wings to dive only to snap them open at the last second and surge upwards once again. His dragon was doing backflips through the air, swishing their tail and chattering to the gold dragon.

"tolvys ilagon!" He heard the rider of the gold dragon call. The gold dragon let out another bellow before folding it's wings and tucking into a dive. The rest of the flock followed, including Jon's dragon. Jon gripped the spikes, squeezing his eyes shut and lowering himself against the white dragon's back. He heard wind whipping and branches snapping before the dragon landed on the ground with a thump. He risked a glance up to see a large lake in front of them, a rocky shore on the far side. The dragons had bundled themselves into the forest, doing their best not to knock over trees. They must be at Long Lake, he realized. So close to home.

Looking up Jon realized the gold dragon no longer had a rider. He worried for a split second that the rider had fallen off in the dive, until he saw the rider near the river. The white dragon he was riding approached the rider with a few low warbles. The rider turned and held out one gloved hand. The white dragon chuffed and pushed their nose against the riders hand. The rider stroked the dragons nose, humming lowly to the dragon. Jon sat up higher in an attempt to see over the dragons shoulders, only to have the rider snap their attention to him.

"Come down Jon Snow, you're in no danger." The rider said, their voice masked by the reverberation of the helmet. Jon slowly swung one leg over the dragons back. The white dragon craned it's head around to glance at him, shaking it's head before stretching one wing from where it was neatly tucked down to the ground. Jon walked down the wing, standing on the ground and looking back at the dragon. The dragon shook itself as it folded it's wing before springing into the air again and doing a lap around the lake.

"Dont go far!" The rider called as the dragon flapped away. The rider turned back towards Jon, clearing their throat and reaching up to remove their helmet. The gold dragon appeared behind the rider, folding its legs under itself with it's head next to the rider. The rider removed their helmet, allowing long brown hair to tumble down her back. Jon felt himself taken aback at the beauty he saw, unrivaled by even that of Daenerys. 

"Jon Snow, it's time I finally introduced myself." She said, removing one glove and offering it. Jon shook her hand, unable to swallow the lump in his throat long enough to speak. The rider pulled her hand away, walking to the gold dragon and hanging her helmet off a hook on the dragons saddle.

"I, It's lovely to meet you." Jon said, finally managing to speak. The woman turned to him with a smile.

"How do you know it's lovely? You've barely met me." She quipped. Jon stumbled over his words as she let out a burst of laughter.

"Relax, Jon Snow. It is lovely to meet you too." She said, a glint in her honey brown eyes. Jon let a soft smile cross his face.

"I am Queen Vaehra dragonborn of the house Rahthone, first of her name, rider of Vilor the gold, the fire walker, Queen of the dragons, the riders, and the shapechangers, protector of the shadowlands, the grey waste, the Mossovy forest, the old Valyria, the new Valyria, and the thousand islands, bringer of light, and voice of the earth." 

Jon immediately dropped to his knee, bowing his head and taking a deep breath. Why did he have to fall for another queen? He heard Vaehra laugh, followed by the deep chortle of a dragon. He looked up to see the gold dragon's throat bobbing as if it were laughing at him.

"Rise Jon Snow, that is not necessary, I am not your queen." Vaehra said, offering her hand to Jon. Jon gingerly took it, and Vaehra hauled him to his feet with surprising strength. Jon stumbled and caught his balance.

"I know your bastard name, Jon Snow, but you are something else aren't you?" She said. Jon hummed deep in his throat before clearing it and opening his mouth to speak the title that was fit for a king, but belonged to a knight of the watch. 

"I am Aegon of Houses Targaryen and Stark, Sixth of His Name, the Resurrected, 998th Commander of the Night's Watch, the White Wolf, rightful heir to the iron throne." He spoke. Vaehra looked at him with approval.

"The lost King, the last Targaryen." Vaehra said. Jon looked to the ground as a blush covered his cheeks. There was suddenly a loud spash in the lake next to him. He looked towards the lake, only for Vilor to throw his wings around both he and Vaehra to block them from the wave of water. Once the water had subsided, Vilor lifted his wing for Jon to see the white dragon paddling in the water with her wings spread to either side of her.

"Dessaly, what on earth are you doing?" The rider snapped. The white dragon paddled to the shore, climbing out and shaking like a dog. Vilor once again raised his wing as water droplets splashed against the armor.

"Dessaly?" Jon questioned, it was not a name he had heard before. The white dragon trotted towards the group, lowering itself to it's belly and butting it's head against Jon's back. Jon turned and rested his hand on the dragons nose, looking into her deep amber eyes.

"Yes, Dessaly. She's one of our speed attackers, which is why she doesn't have armor." Vaehra explained. The dragon, Dessaly, hummed deep in her throat and opened her mouth wide in front of Jon. He started and backed away, only for Vaehra to chuckle and step forward, grabbing his hand and placing it palm down on Dessaly's tongue.

"She likes you." Vaehra said. Jon felt the air from Dessaly's breath whoosh around him. It smelled of fire and charred meat and Jon wrinkled his nose. Vaehra started rubbing the roof of Dessaly's mouth with her gloved hand, gesturing for Jon to do the same. Dessaly hummed contedly before Vaehra pulled her hand away. Jon moved his hand as Dessaly slowly closed her mouth, huffing a breath in Jon's face before pressing her nose against his chest.

"I had no idea dragons liked that, Dany's never did that with anybody." Jon said breathlessly. He never thought he'd touch the inside of a dragon's mouth. He looked to Vaehra to see her face fallen.

"Yes. I know." Vaehra said curtly. Jon could sense that he had touched a nerve. Vilor pushed his armored head against Vaehra and she rested her non gloved hand on the dragons nose.

"Your so called 'dragon queen' was nothing but a fraud. The dragons she had? Were wyverns, not dragons." Vaehra said. At the mention of the 'dragon queen' the rest of the riders on the shore turned from what they were doing, walking towards Vaehra to listen to her story.

"The eggs stolen from the shadowlands belonged to a flock of wild wyverns. They were furious when they discovered the eggs missing, and of course assumed my kingdom was the one responsible. They didn't get past the border, we felt horrible, they just wanted their eggs back. We sent one of our trackers after the eggs to see if she could find them, she returned with the news that the eggs had been gifted to one Daenerys Targaryen."

"At first, I was overjoyed, a Targaryen at last! the lost family, the ones who had left Valyria and been wiped out in their new Western playground, but as soon as they hatched I realized she had nothing but ill will for them. I should have known from the beginning, I should have stolen the eggs back, shattered them, something." Vilor hummed in his throat and Vaehra rubbed his nose.

"Wyverns cannot truly be a dragon. You can sink as much training, love, will, into them but they remain wild inside. All the times they snapped at her, I never thought they'd stay with her through their juvenile years. And when she chained them, when she chained them it took my entire queens guard to keep me from breaking their chains." Vaehra growled and Vilor mimicked the growl.

"We followed her movements with scouts, I watched her while she was in Essos, left the running of the kingdom to my council, but when she crossed to Westeros there was no way I could leave my kingdom so far behind. I left, and sent my stealthiest scout to keep tabs on her. He sent regular updates, he's, and Bran the Broken, are the reasons we're here." 

"We've met with Bran the Broken, he agrees that dragons, true dragons, need to be reintroduced to the world. That is why we are here." Vaehra finished her brief explanation.

"The Queen believed her dragons were true," Jon started. The riders surrounding them whipped their head towards Jon, every one of them on edge. The dragons surrounding them also turned their heads, some baring teeth.

"That belief does not change her actions. Don't you agree Jon Snow?" Vaehra asked. Jon swallowed. Daenerys was just doing what she thought was best, but at what cost? Jon had promised, she would be his queen until the end of his days.

"She was just attacking her enemy. Taking her rightful place." Jon explained. Vaehra stood taller, squared her shoulders, hand on the hilt of the dagger resting at her hip.

"One does not burn the herd to expose the wolf." She hissed. Vilor stood to his full height, shaking himself off. "Especially not when the herd is willing to throw the wolf to the flame." Jon listened to the armor clanking against the dragons scales as he stretched his wing to the ground. Vaehra stepped onto the base, walking up the wing as Vilor lifted it and started to fold it in.

"We are traveling to the lake near Torrhen's Square. We will set up camp there for the night, then continue to King's Landing in the morning." Vaehra said, replacing the helmet atop her head. The rest of the riders nodded, clambering onto their dragons and positioning themselves in the saddles. 

Dessaly hummed at Jon, lowering herself to the ground. Jon sighed and walked up Dessaly's wing, settling himself on her back and gripping the spikes in front of him as Dessaly followed Vaehra and her dragon into the sky.


	2. Christar Wrintaris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reminder that this in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**
> 
> Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.

The flight was a silent one. There was no whooping and hollering as they flew, none of the dragons played in the warm winds that blew them upwards as they had before, simply tucked their wings in and kept their height. Vaehra at the front, a green dragon covered in armor on her left and a purple on her right. The three dragons trilled to each other quietly as they flew. In the distance, Jon could see Winterfell in the distance, and comtemplated asking if they could visit Sansa, he missed her dearly, but assumed this would be the wrong time.

"My queen," He heard one of the riders say, He glanced towards Winterfell where they were fast approaching, to see something sickening on the walls.

A scorpion. A larger, modified version of the one Qyburn had created, the one that sent Rhaegal into the sea, the one that had cause Daenerys to burn Kings Landing to the ground, and as they flew towards Winterfell Jon realized they'd never get past it without losing a dragon.

"My Queen!" One of the guards cried. Vaehra leaned back in her saddle, finally spotting the scorpion over her dragons broad shoulders. Vilor pulled himself back with a screech, the green and purple dragons hissed and folded their wings, diving to avoid the bolts of the scorpion.

"Everybody up!" Vaehra called. Vilor immediately started flying towards the sky, the green and purple following in his wake. Dessaly let out a panicked warble, following Vaehra with a squeal and a hiss. Jon glanced behind him to see the guards on the wall reloading, pointing more bolts at the flock.

"Watch your backs!" Vaehra called as Vilor twisted into a fall backwards, going on the attack in an attempt to burn the scorpions. Another bolt whizzed past and Jon glanced over his shoulder to see it pierce through the thick armor and lodge itself into the chest of the black dragon. The dragon let out a cry of pain and alarm as they twisted and fell from the sky, their throat burning with fire. Jon heard the panicked yells of the rider on the now flaming dragon

"Christar! Daeragon!" Vaehra cried. The black dragon, howled as it collided with the ground, skidding to a halt in the snow as ash surrounded the now burning body of the dragon. The blue dragon screeched in alarm, flapping in panic as they circled Vilor and Vaehra, diving just within the range of the scorpion. Vaehra kicked against Vilor's back and Vilor flew down, grabbing the blue dragon's tail and pulling the dragon out of range as another bolt flew towards him.

"Ataim! No!" Vaehra yelled. The blue dragon twisted around and chittered, glancing back down at the black dragon now burning on the ground. Jon could just see a singed figure walking away, stumbling slightly as the fire burned off of his clothes.

"How is he still alive?" Jon called. Vaehra looped around the burning dragon, watching the figure walk through the snow.

"Christar, he's marked by the dragons, he's part dragon, immune to fire, as strong as three men, my most trusted guard." Vaehra watched the figure as Sansa's guards surrounded him, riding circles around the figure as Sansa rode out on her white horse. Jon heard Vilor growl lowly as the guards jumped off their horses, swarming the figure as he struggled against them.

"He'll be ok," Vaehra said, sounding worried. "I'm not so sure about your sister though." Vaehra hissed under her breath. Jon swallowed, looking down as Sansa's guards dragged the figure slowly behind their horses.

"Change of plans, we're flying straight to Kings Landing." Vaehra said, leaning forward in her saddle and padding Vilor's back. Vilor pumped his wings to fly higher, staying out of the range of the scorpions and turning towards Kings Landing.

* * *

The flight had taken them merely three hours. They arrived as the first fingers of dusk were beginning to reach across the sky and the lanterns from the few remaining houses in Kings Landing were alight. The construction to restore the Red Keep had ceased for the day. Jon had been informed that they had repaired the throne room and the royal bedchambers so far. As he looked to the ground, he saw people scurry back into their houses as Vaehra and her flock swooped low overhead, winging towards the Red Keep. As they reached the wall of the keep, the dragons slowed to a halt, hovering above what little remained of the outer wall

"Jon Snow, you come with me." Vaehra called. Jon started as Vilor chuffed to Dessaly. Dessaly gave a resounding hum deep in her throat and licked at Vilor's snout. Vilor huffed and shook his head.

"As for the rest of you, go. Find a place to stay the night, eat, drink, but most of all remember that we are guests. Do not cause damage, be kind, and stay safe." Vaehra addressed her riders. The riders all nodded, turning their dragons to the furthest outreaches of the city. The only dragons left were Dessaly, Vilor, the blue dragon Ataim, and the purple and green dragons that flanked Vilor.

"Now, lets go speak to your brother. Jon Snow." Vaehra announced. Vilor slowly lowered himself to perch on the wall before dropping into the courtyard below. Dessaly followed his example closely. He stretched his wing towards the ground, allowing Vaehra to step down his wing. Once Vaehra reached the ground and started walking towards the doors of the keep, Vilor started following obediently. Vaehra turned and placed a hand on his snout.

"Stay here Vilor, watch Ataim, he is lost without Christar and Daeragon." Vaehra said. Vilor warbled low in his throat, turning to look at the blue dragon a few paces behind him. Vilor turned his body around and nuzzled his snout against the blue dragons neck, humming in a low comforting manner to the blue dragon.

"Come." Vaehra said, turning suddenly and stalking towards the doors of the keep. Her black and red cloak swished behind her, dragging through the snow and erasing the boot tracks she left. What little was left of the sun glinted off her helmet, she exuded power and confidence, Jon felt he was in her shadow as he jogged after her.

The guards at the doors stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Vaehra glared up at the men through her helmet. The men shifted nervously before one finally spoke.

"What is your business?"

"I seek an audience with Bran the Broken." Vaehra announced confidently. The guard snorted and the other held back a laugh.

"And I plan to fuck Cersei Lannister's corpse." The guard snapped. Vaehra let out a growl, reaching up to remove her helmet. The guards paused at seeing the face of a woman, but resumed their howling laughter.

"Actually now that I've seen your face, I plan to fuck you." The same guard said, reaching to fondle Vaehra. Before Jon could even react, he heard a loud growl from above. He looked up to see the green dragon that had been flanking Vaehra perched atop the ruins above the guards, slowly inching his way down the rubble. 

"If you touch me, I will have a knife through your eye and have cut the throat of your friend before you can pray to your seven gods." Vaehra snarled.

"And if for some reason I fail, I promise Sedu will not miss." Vaehra spoke, gesturing to the green dragon above their heads. Sedu bared her teeth, allowing saliva to start dripping from her lips onto the ground next to the guards.

The guards swallowed and the one who had reached for Vaehra pulled his hand away. They straightened up, relaxing slightly as Sedu lifted herself back onto the wall, settling for watching the altercation calmly.

"We can't just let you see the King." The other guard tried to reason. Vaehra straightened her stance, smoothing the fur around her neck with her gloved hands. The guards seemed uneasy with her presence.

"Very well. Tell him Queen Vaehra Rahthone stopped by, with his brother Jon Snow." The guards whipped their gaze to Jon, swallowing nervously. They turned their gaze back to Vaehra.

"I'm sure he will be simply ecstatic to learn you turned away his brother, and his royal guest." Vaehra quipped before turning to walk back to Vilor. Jon glanced between the guards and Vaehra before walking after Vaehra.

"Wait!" The guards bellowed. Vaehra turned to look at them, only for the guards to open the door for her and gesture her inside.

"The King is in a meeting with his council currently." The guard spoke. Vaehra nodded and thanked the two, stepping through the door. Jon followed her, almost being crushed under Sedu's talons as she jumped down from the wall to the inside of the keep.

"Sedu! Go outside." Vaehra snapped at the dragon. Sedu warbled and tried to push her nose against Vaehra's chest.

"No Sedu, it's very rude to just barge in like that. Go sit with Vilor, Ataim, and Aligosa." Vaehra said. Sedu hummed sadly, lifting herself back onto the wall and spreading her wings to glide down. Jon turned and followed Vaehra as she stormed through the halls, cloak dragging behind her. 

Vaehra made a few turns, stopping in front of a heavy door. She paused, took a deep breath, and reached to her head to remove her helm. She cradled it under her arm, smoothing out her hair. She adjusted the way her cloak sat on her shoulders and took another breath, closing her eyes for a moment, before forcefully throwing the door open and storming into the room.

"Bran the Broken, I thought you said your sister would allow me safe passage through her kingdom with no troubles!" She yelled. Jon peeked around the door to see Bran sitting at the head of the table, surrounded by Tyrion Lannister, Samwell Tarly, Sir Bronn of the Blackwater, Sir Brienne of Tarth, and Sir Davos Seaworth. Brienne and Bronn had risen at the sudden intrusion, swords halfway drawn as Vaehra stormed to the table and slammed her helm down next to Bronn. Bronn unsheathed his sword and within moments Vaehra had drawn her dagger and had it pressed against Bronn's throat.

"If you make that move this meeting will end with blood." She snarled before whipping to face Bran. Bran looked at her the way he looked at everybody. Calmly, as if he was leafing through their history to pick apart what made them, them.

"I did." Bran said simply. Vaehra lowered her dagger.

"Then tell me why, I am now missing a dragon and one of my riders is held captive!" At the word captive, Vaehra stabbed her dagger into the wood of the table. Jon saw Tyrion and Samwell flinch visibly. Bran sighed.

"Vaehra, please remove your knife from my table." Bran said. Vaehra pulled the knife from the table, replacing it in the small sheath on her hip.

"I saw what happened to Daeragon and Christar, and I am truly sorry." Bran said. Vaehra snorted.

"Sorry will not bring back my dragon." She growled. Jon cleared his throat and stepped into the room. Everybody turned to look at him, and Samwell's face lit up at the sight.

"Jon!" Samwell cried, standing and bustling towards him. Jon smiled and shook Samwell's hand, excited to see his friend as well. 

Vaehra forcefully cleared her throat, turning back to Bran.

"I want to meet with Sansa." She said. Bran raised his eyebrows slightly.

"She will not take kindly to the idea." He explained. Jon knew how Sansa had felt about Daenerys, thinking she had come to take the North from Jon. He could only imagine how She would feel about Vaehra coming with her flock of dragons and a, technically, kidnapped Jon Snow.

"I do not care. If she has laid a hand on Christar I will tear her limb from limb and feed them to the great beast in the mountain!" Vaehra yelled. Bronn was looking bewilderedly between Vaehra and Bran, unsure how to react to somebody yelling in the face of his king.

"Christar is alive I can assure you. He's sleeping in the dungeons as of one hour ago." Bran explained. Vaehra dropped her shoulders in relief.

"Good. She may live, for now." Vaehra said. "Brandon I came here first so you could inform your sister of my visit. I didn't want to show up on her doorstep with a flock of seething dragons and riders who could easily kill her guards in hand-to-hand combat." Vaehra explained. And for some reason Jon could easily imagine each of her guards could kill three Northmen with no problems.

"I can inform her Vaehra, however I do not know if she will accept." Bran said, still calm as ever in the face of this furious dragon rider.

"I don't care if she accepts. I will be going anyway, whether this is a diplomatic exchange or a declaration of war is up to her." Vaehra said. Jon opened his mouth in shock.

"Declaration of war? I, Vaehra, that seems a little extreme." Jon said, approaching Vaehra and reaching out to rest his hand on her forearm. Vaehra turned to look at him, a fire glinting in her eyes.

"In Valyria the murder of a dragon and capture of a rider is an act of war in and of itself. I am being merciful by giving her the opportunity to explain." Vaehra said. Jon was grateful Vaehra was showing mercy to his naive little sister, but he didn't want his home being burned down.

"Vaehra, she didn't know. You have to consider where she's coming from." Jon pleaded He saw the fire in Vaehra's eyes flicker and dim slightly at his pleas. She sighed and turned back to Bran.

"Send a raven Brandon. We will be leaving at dusk tomorrow." Vaehra said, picking up her helm and replacing it on her head as she walked towards the door.

"Vaehra," Bran called to her. Vaehra paused in her tracks. "We've finished repairs to the guest chambers. You and your riders are welcome to stay." Bran said. Vaehra nodded in appreciation before continuing her trek out the door. Bran turned to Jon.

"Jon, it's good to see you." Bran said. Jon nodded with a smile, turning to glance back at the door.

"Go with her Jon. She's more important than you know." Bran said. The rest of the small council looked like they were now used to Bran's cryptic comments. Jon took a breath and followed after Vaehra as she stalked down the hall.

Bran spoke to Tyrion without taking his eyes off the door, wondering how the meeting between Vaehra Rahthone and Sansa Stark would end.

"Tyrion, please send a raven to Winterfell, tell Sansa Queen Vaehra Rathone of Valyria is coming to pay a visit."


	3. The Ultimatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reminder that this in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**
> 
> Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.

"Tell me, how have you managed to stay hidden all these years?" Jon asked Vaehra as they sat leaned against the warm scales of the dragons around the fire.

"Our realm is so far East, you have to cross The Bones, through the great sand sea, and even then most of our cities are hidden within mountains of the shadowlands and the Mossovy forest." Vaehra said, taking a spoonful of broth from her bowl and lifting it to her mouth.

"What made you leave Valyria?"

"Well after the Targaryens left and people discovered dragons existed, they came hunting. Everybody wanted dragons, we had so many eggs stolen and dragons killed for defending their nests. We had to go where nobody would find us people were killing each other over the most simple things. Those with their dragons left and fled east, over The Bones, over the great sand sea, finally when we reached the Bleeding Sea we stopped. we set up camp, drinking from the River that grew from the Bleeding Sea."

"My many times great Grandmother, Banya Rahthone the one who took over when our ruling families were overthrown, sent out scouts to the North, East, and South. The scouts came back with information that there was life! we could survive here. We sent out parties in all directions, began settling the Grey Waste and the Thousand Islands, the dragons sought out the volcanoes in the Shadowlands, finding the flock of wyverns that Daenerys's eggs originated from." 

"We found a large volcano near the center of the grey waste. The dragons burrowed within it, creating new nesting sites to hatch their eggs. The rise of the New Valyria had begun, and the Rahthone's made a pact to follow a matrilineal line. Banya gave birth to three daughters and a son, the Rahthone line began to thrive. I am one of many female descendents of Banya. My mother was the eldest, my grandmother was the eldest, and so on and so forth. House Rahthone has been a just and fair ruling house for many generations. And I am overjoyed, that I am the one to lead the introduction of dragons to the rest of the world."

Jon sat and listened attentively, amazed at the traditions of the new Valyria. He had never heard of a house following a matrilineal line, it fascinated him.

"Why matrilineal? I'm only curious." Jon held his hands up in defense when Vaehra turned to him with a questioning look.

"Well, as shown with Westeros's situation with the Lannisters, they will always be of royal blood. Even if the queen commits aldutery, her child will always have her royal blood. Technically, the Baratheon children here were bastards and not of royal blood." Vaehra explained. It made sense, it was impossible for the queens child to not carry her blood.

"That's actually very smart." Jon said. Vaehra grinned at him, lifting her bowl to her lips and drinking down the rest of the broth.

"What soup was that?" Jon asked, eyeing the pot suspended over the roaring fire. The stew inside was bubbling angrily, chunks of meat and vegetables dancing through the broth.

"Capon. Christar came up with the recipe for it actually, It has some celery in it, carrots, onions, he experimented with dragon peppers but nobody else likes them. The dragons love it." Vaehra said, smiling at the pot. Jon glanced towards the bubbling soup. Vaehra seemed quite fond of Christar, he couldn't help but wonder if he was more than just a member of her queensguard.

"It smells amazing." He commented. Vaehra grinned, reaching for a clean bowl from the pile and taking the metal spoon hanging from the edge of the pot, spooning a hearty amount of the soup into the bowl, grabbing a spoon from the pile of dishes, handing it to Jon. He took a spoonful, blowing on it before sticking it in his mouth. The smell was nothing compared to the taste, The spices complimented the capon beautifully, the vegetables were soft and added a burst of flavor to the soup. It's something he could imagine in the north, hearty and warm.

"This is _amazing_," Jon gushed, taking another spoonful. Vaehra laughed as Jon noticed the small pale floating, thing, in the spoon. He dumped it back into the bowl to ponder it. 

"What in the six kingdoms is _that_?" Jon said, scooping it up and looking at it. It was floppy and dripped juice into the bowl.

"It's a noodle, like a pastry but boiled in water rather than baked." Vaehra said. Jon took a bite of the "noodle", hesitant of how it would be. It was surprisingly good, it was soft and full of the flavor of the broth.

"A noodle?" Jon asked, eating the rest of the spoonful.

"Another thing Christar came up with. The kitchen maids have kicked him out of the kitchen so many times, he grew up cooking with his mother in that kitchen, he loves experimenting. He was messing around with some spare eggs and flour one day and made those." Vaehra said. Jon shoveled more of the delicious soup in his mouth, feeling the broth drip down his chin into his beard. 

"Every week he makes a meal enough to feed an army and their dragons, he and Daeragon and Ataim would take it to the furthest reaches of the kingdom where the poorer subjects reside, he'd set the food out and let people take what they wanted." Vaehra sniffed and Jon looked to see a tear roll down her cheek.

"He was always doing things like that. Giving away extra furs from hunts to those in the northern regions, feeding the citizens, Daeragon and Ataim would even take the young children who had never seen a dragon on a flight around the city." Jon set the bowl down on the ground beside him, reaching over to brush the tears off her cheek with one gloved hand.

"I don't know what the kingdom will do if we can't get him back. What I'll do." Vaehra whispered. Jon rested his palm against her cheek and Vaehra took a deep breath, pulling her head away and standing up quickly, patting Vilor's scales. The dragon shifted and lifted his head, causing Ataim to wake with a start and panicked "honk" noise. 

Vaehra cleared her throat, running her hand along Vilor's shoulder. Vilor reached his head around and pushed his nose against Vaehra's chest. She rested both hands on his nose and Vilor hummed deep in his throat.

"Well Jon Snow, we have a long flight tomorrow. You should rest. Help yourself to the rest of the soup, the others have already eaten. What you dont eat Dessaly will." Vaehra said, hooking her hands around the straps of the saddle on Vilor's back and hauling herself up. Sedu and the purple dragon Jon now knew as Aligosa woke with a start as Vilor hauled himself to his feet. Jon struggled to keep his balance as Vilor moved his tail that Jon had previously been leaning against Vilor walked towards the rest of the group that had already bedded down for the night. 

Jon looked to Dessaly, who was sitting calmly across the fire. She was curled like a cat, tail twitching occasionally as she watched Vaehra and her dragons walk towards the rest of the group. Jon sighed, following her gaze. The Valyrian's were a strange group, however, Jon couldn't help but be drawn to their strange ways. The way he'd felt at home on Dessaly's back didn't make them any less alluring either.

"Well Dessaly," Jon said. Dessaly turned her head to look at Jon, spotting the pot and pushing her nose closer with a large huff. Jon finished off his bowl and stood from his spot, setting the bowl atop Vaehra's in the pile of dishes that needed to be cleaned tomorrow. 

"What do you say we head over?" Jon asked. Dessaly warbled deep in her throat before nosing at the pot of soup. Jon chuckled and walked towards the pot, debating how to give the soup to Dessaly.

"Vaehra said you could have it." Jon muttered. Dessaly hooked a talon through the metal handle, lifting it off the frame before transferring it to her mouth. She held the pot between her teeth, tipping her head back and allowing the remnants to flow into her mouth. She hummed, dropping the pot onto the ground near the rest of the bowls, standing up and shaking herself off. Jon chuckled and walked to the fire, starting to kick dirt onto it in an attempt to smother the flames. Dessaly chittered at him, whipping her tail around and dropping it on the fire, smothering it immediately. Dessaly bared her teeth in what almost looked like a grin.

"Alright, that works too," Jon muttered. Dessaly lowered her head in front of Jon, pressing her nose against his chest. "What is it girl?"

Dessaly pushed her nose slightly between his knees before lifting her head, picking Jon off his feet. Jon let out a startled yelp, gripping the spikes above her eyes, grateful she didn't have as many along the edges of her snout like Drogon had. Dessaly walked towards the rest of the group, before loweing herself to the ground and pressing herself against the Red dragon's scales, pressing at the dragons cheek. The red dragon opened one bright amber eye, huffing at Dessaly and letting out a quiet chatter. The rider, that Jon now realized was wrapped in furs and tucked under the dragons chin, groaned and patted the dragon's cheek.

"Matanyx go to _sleep!" _The rider huffed. The red dragon shifted, lowering their head again. Dessaly lowered her head and allowed Jon to slide off her nose before bustling him against her chest and curling her head around him Jon arranged his cloak so it fell almost like a blanket, curling himself against Dessaly's warm chest and settling in for sleep.

* * *

"I want everybody to at least dip in the river!" Jon woke with a start, reaching up and planting his hand on Dessaly's forearm and pulling himself up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, glancing around to see the Valyrian's already awake and breaking down their small camp.

"Ah Jon Snow, come." Vaehra said. Jon stumbled to his feet and Dessaly followed after him with a mighty shake of her whole body. Jon followed after Vaehra as she walked towards a mostly demolished home. She gently knocked on the doorframe and an old woman came to the threshold, her face breaking into a grin when she laid eyes on Vaehra.

"Ah! you're back!" She said, bustling Vaehra into the house. Vaehra reached behind her and grabbed Jon's wrist, pulling him into the house with him.

"Hello Donnis, it's lovely to see you today. Are you sure you're alright with us using your tub?" Vaehra asked. Jon glanced to the curtained off corner, spotting the corner of a wooden basin peeking around the curtain. He realized Vaehra intended to have him bathe, and while he figured this was desirable before going to see Sansa (who had always prided herself on keeping herself clean) he wasn't excited to bathe in the freezing water.

"Of course Vaehra dear, You're so generous with the food you've given us, I'd let you use me as your whipping horse if you wanted!" Donnis said, patting Vaehra's hand.

"You know I'd never do that Donnis, come, I have a few more things I'd like you to look at." Vaehra said, bustling Donnis out the door. She looked pointedly at Jon, then to the back. Jon sighed, walking to the corner, surprised to see steam curling off the water. He removed his glove, tentatively dipping a finger in the water. It was the perfect temperature. Vaehra must have had one of the dragons heat the water before they filled the bath. 

Jon quickly stripped from his clothes, leaving them outside the curtain before pulling it closed and stepping into the water, his muscles relaxing at the warm water. He let out a great sigh and lowered himself into the water, holding the edge of the tub.

"Jon!" He heard Vaehra call. He worried for a split second about covering himself, but the warm water had clouded his thoughts. 

"Jon I have a clean undershirt and trousers here, also soap because apparently in Westeros you don't have any?" Vaehra called from the other side of the curtain. Jon lifted his head slightly, letting out a questioning hum.

"Soap, it's something we use to clean the dirt off in Valyria. Bran had never heard of it and frankly I'm a little afraid of that." Vaehra said with a chuckle. Jon cracked one eye open to see her arm shoved through the curtain offering a solid bar of something Jon had never seen before. He reached forward and grabbed the bar from Vaehra, looking at it curiously.

"You use it to get the dirt off. It makes baths quicker." Vaehra explained. "Also, when you're done come out and meet me, I'll fix your hair into something that's not quite, a knot." Vaehra said. Jon huffed out a laugh as he heard Vaehra walk out of the house. He quickly finished bathing, using the soap and finding it definitely made things easier. He felt cleaner than he had in a long while. 

Stepping out of the tub, he pushed the curtain back to find a set of clean underclothes, just as Vaehra had said. He quickly got dressed, stepping out of the old womans house and looking around in an attempt to spot Vaehra. He looked up to see Dessaly perched on the roof of the house. She quickly stepped down with an excited warble and bumped her nose against Jon's back. 

"I know Dessaly, I smell clean now." Jon said. He heard Vaehra chuckle behind him, turning to look at her.

"Come her Jon Snow, let me fix your hair. She said, pulling a brush from her belt. Jon sighed and followed Vaehra to the remains of the camp. SHe sat Jon down, working the brush through the knots in his hair before pulling it back into a series of intricate braids fit for a wedding. When she was finished, Jon stood from the ground and stretched himself out. Dessaly pressed her nose against Jon's hair, taking a deep breath.

"Dess what are y- Dessaly!" Jon cried as Dessaly almost pushed him over. Jon whipped over and tried pushing her nose away.

"Is she always like this?" Jon asked, patting Dessaly's nose. Vaehra chuckled.

"She's never had a rider before, she's excited." Vaehra explained, taking a step towards Dessaly and patting her foreleg. Dessaly lowered herself to her stomach and Jon moved to climb on her back when a guard rode towards the two on horseback.

"Queen Vaehra!" The guard called. Vaehra turned to face the guard, who quickly jumped off his horse and jogged towards her, handing her a scroll.

"An urgent message, it came in late last night, we just saw it. I'm sorry your Grace." The guard said with a pant. Jon glanced over Vaehras shoulder, quickly reading the note written in Sansa's hand.

_"Vaehra Rahthone. I don't know who you believe yourself to be, or how you hold yourself in such high regard as to believe you can take those beasts across my Kingdom with no consequences. Whoever you think you are I assure you you cannot behave like that in my kingdom. I will give you until mid day tomorrow to arrive in Winterfell to discuss my terms, or your rider will be beheaded and thrown to the dogs for treason against the queen._

_-Queen Sansa of house Stark, First of Her Name, Queen in the North, the Lady Wolf, the Survivor, Savior of the North, Heroine of Winterfell, The Bastard's Widow, The Defier of Dragons, the Un-kneeling, the Cunning Bird_

Jon could hear Vaehra seething, and he found himself angered at his sister as well. How dare she take this attitude with Vaehra. Jon wasn't sure if he was more worried on Sansa's behalf, he knew Vaehra could easily kill Sansa and Vaehra's queensguard would waste no time killing Sansa's guards and every man in Winterfell if needed, or if he was angry at her.

"Thank you for showing me this." Vaehra said, the guard nodded and returned to his horse to return to the castle. Vaehra turned towards the flock of dragons, stalking off angrily. Jon could hear her boots crunching in the snow as the wind played with her shining brown hair. Vaehra reached the flock and Dessaly quickly picked Jon up in her front paw, lifting him off the ground and jogging towards the grouo.

"Change of plans!" Vaehra barked. Dessaly set Jon down next to Vaehra. He was slightly disoriented, shaking his head to regain his balance.

"The _Queen in the North_ has given an ultimatum. I must be to Winterfell by midday today, or she's planning to behead Christar." There was a chorus of gasps from the remaining riders and a distressed screech from Ataim. Vaehra held up her fist beside her head.

"I'm taking Ataim and Dessaly." Jon realized those were the only two dragons with no armor, the two lithe dragons, built for speed, made to fly. Jon started as Ataim leaped over the dragons between he and Vaehra, flattening himself against the ground and making rapid "chirrup" noises. Vaehra quickly climbed onto his back, settling herself on his shoulders.

"Follow at your own pace, if we arrive with an entire army brigade she may kill him anyway." Vaehra said. Ataim made a nervous lap around Dessaly, stamping his feet in the snow and shaking his head with a short. Vaehra gripped the spikes on his back to keep her balance.

"Jon, you're coming with me." Vaehra said. Jon nodded, quickly climbing onto Vaehra's back and settling himself on her shoulders just in time to see Ataim leap into the air and beat his wings, tail smacking against the snow as he rose into the sky and turned towards Winterfell. Dessaly followed his example with a warble, stretching her wings to their full extent and following after Ataim as he shot towards Winterfell faster than Jon had seen any dragon fly.


	4. Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**
> 
> Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.

The two arrived in Winterfell with 20 minutes before midday. Vaehra hadn't even landed outside the walls of Winterfell. Ataim had gone in for a force landing in the center of the courtyard, sending up a flurry of snow as he landed, wings flared and teeth bared as Vaehra slid from his back, landing on her feet and marching to the nearest guard. 

Dessaly landed daintily next to Ataim and Jon walked down her wing, watching as Vaehra grabbed the cloak of the guard, dragging him down so his head was nearly in the mouth of her helm.

"Where is your _Queen in the North_?" Vaehra spat. The guard reached for his sword, only for Vaehra to pull her dagger from the sheath and hold it to his throat.

"I'll kill you before you get the chance to scream, Where is she!" Vaehra yelled. Jon glanced around the courtyard, seeing the guards atop the wall frozen in the shock of suddenly having a dragon dive-bomb in the center of their courtyard. Jon glanced at the walkway running around the courtyard, spotting Sansa watching the chaos unfold.

"Vaehra!" Jon called. Vaehra turned her head to look at Jon, who gestured up the walkway. Vaehra let go of the guard, sheathing her dagger and walking briskly towards the stairs leading up to the walkway. She walked towards Sansa, who was flanked by four burly guards. The guards drew their swords, stepping forward as Vaehra drew closer. Vaehra froze in her tracks, turning to look at Sansa.

"This was meant to be a diplomatic meeting." Vaehra growled. Sansa raised an eyebrow, but remained otherwise emotionless. Jon reached the top of the steps, watching as Vaehra reached for her dagger again.

"Tell me Vaehra Rahthone, who brings dragons to a diplomatic meeting?" Sansa questioned. Jon could see that Vaehra was moments away from cutting Sansa's throat.

"Sansa!" Jon called. Vaehra turned to look at him as Jon walked forward, bundling his sister into a hug. Sansa paused for a moment before hugging him back.

"Jon, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at the wall?" Sansa asked, pulling away to look at him. Vaehra pushed Jon aside, getting in Sansa's face and glaring up at her. Somehow Jon didn't feel at ease knowing Vaehra was shorter than his sister.

"Where, is, my, rider?" Vaehra enunciated each word carefully, letting them out with a growl.

"I suggest you get those dragons out of my courtyard before we have more dragon stew." Sansa said evenly. Vaehra stumbled, standing straight and backing away from Sansa.

"Excuse me?" She whispered. Sansa gestured to a far corner of the courtyard where a pair of black dragon wings were propped against the wall, a large pot bubbling away. Vaehra's knees buckled slightly as she gagged. Jon felt himself grow queasy at the thought. Jon saw Ataim glance towards the corner of the courtyard, spotting the black wings and letting out a grieving howl before collapsing to his stomach. Dessaly's scales bristled, the scales on her tail standing on end as she hissed at the wings, flaring her own to make herself look bigger. Vaehra grabbed onto the wall of the walkway as Sansa smirked at her.

Vaehra turned to the dragons, letting out a shrill panicked whistle to get their attention. Dessaly turned to look at Vaehra, her scales still bristling. Vaehra waved her hands at the dragons, walking towards them along the walkway.

"sōvegon!" She called. Dessaly turned and nipped at Ataim until he stood, and spread her wings before jumping into the air. Ataim followed, his flight faltering slightly until Dessaly swooped underneath him and nipped at his haunches. He quickly flew up and over the wall, and Jon watched as the two disappeared into the sky.

"Where is he?" Vaehra asked, no, begged. Vaehra was begging for Christar, hoping he was still alive, unharmed, ready to come home.

"Alive, for now." Sansa said. She turned and walked towards the great hall. Vaehra had no choice but to follow her.

Once in the great hall, Jon noticed all the changes Sansa had made.There were thick bearskin rugs covering the stone floor, more Stark banners hanging from the walls, torches in every corner. It seemed almost, stuffed. It no longer felt like home. 

Jon heard a bustling in the corner and whipped around to see seven guards wrestling with a large man. He was easily two meters tall, with shoulders almost as broad as a doorway. As he wrenched himself against the chains the guards had looped around his wrists and waist his long dark brown hair whipped wildly around his face, his bright green eyes glinting with anger and fury. 

His clothes were singed and torn. His shirt was now nothing but rags, offering a view to the impressive muscles covering his stomach, and the small peculiar black scales covering his right shoulderblade. He growled at the guards as they dragged him in, shoving him onto the floor in front of Vaehra. He landed on his knees, hands behind his back. His chest was heaving as he lifted his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes. 

Jon could map out the freckles that dotted his face. His emerald green eyes were rimmed with gold as he breathed heavily, shifting his weight on his knees. He looked up at Vaehra with a grin before bowing his head low.

"And the Queen returns." He said. His voice was deep and smooth, comforting almost. The guard hit him over the shoulders with the pommel of his sword.

"The only _Queen _here is the Queen in the North." The guard snapped. Christar turned to look at the guard, rolling his shoulders before looking between Sansa and Vaehra.

"I see one Queen," He looked at Sansa, "and one cunt." He looked to Vaehra.

"And my Queen isn't the one wearing the crown." Christar growled. Jon held back a snicker of laughter as the guard raised his sword to strike Christar again, when Sansa spoke.

"That's quite all right Alvar." Sansa said. The guard lowered his sword, replacing it in his sheath. Sansa looked to Vaehra as Vaehra reached to help Christar off the ground, clearing her throat.

"I hope you don't plan on taking my prisoner." Sansa said. Vaehra froze before touching Christar, fingers twitching towards the scales on his shoulderblade.

"Your prisoner?" Vaehra spat.

"Well, we captured him trespassing in the North with a dragon. That's a crime against the Queen." 

"And you shot down a dragon. That's a war crime in Valyria."

"Vaehra-" Sansa began, but Vaehra cut her off.

"_I am Queen, _Vaehra dragonborn of the house Rahthone, first of her name, rider of Vilor the gold, the fire walker, Queen of the dragons, the riders, and the shapechangers, protector of the shadowlands, the grey waste, the Mossovy forest, the old Valyria, the new Valyria, and the thousand islands, bringer of light, and voice of the earth. You will refer to me as such, not just some common whore." Vaehra snapped. Sansa was about to open her mouth to speak again when Vaehra continued.

"_He _Is Sir Christar dragonborn, of the house Wrintaris, fourth of his name, rider of Daeragon the bold, a knight of Valyria, the singed, lord commander of the queensguard, dragonkin, bringer of peace, marked by dragons." Vaehra paused and Sansa once more opened her mouth.

"He is no prisoner." Vaehra hissed. Sansa lifted her chin, waiting to see if Vaehra was going to interrupt her again.

"Well, as the Queen in the North I decree he is, in fact, a prisoner. A prisoner of the Northern Kingdom. Now we can discuss my terms like a civilized people, or if you want to continue yelling I can throw you out and hang him." Sansa brushed her hair over her shoulder, the sleeves of her gown dragging on the stone floor.

Jon glanced down to see Christar watching everything silently, his gaze occasionally meeting Jon's. His eyes looked more like a dragons that a humans, and the scales that crossed over his shoulder and down his chest didn't help to kill that image. 

"So, you're the Targaryen?" Christar asked suddenly as Vaehra and Sansa argued. Jon cleared his throat and shuffled uncomfortably. He wasn't sure what he thought of Christar, the eyes made him uneasy.

"I am. I go by Jon Snow, though." He said. Christar nodded with a chuckle.

"Not a fan of the family?" Christar sat back on his feet, knees in front of him and slightly parted as he tossed his head and flicked his hair over his shoulder, allowing it to cascade in waves down his back, partially covering the black scales.

"Didn't know I was part of it actually." Jon sighed. He'd lived 24 years of his life as a Snow, raised by the Stark's, he wasn't sure where he belonged.

"Oh don't I know how that is. Didn't know my dad was a fuckin' Valtheon till I was 20. Mum was a Wrintaris, raised me a Wrintaris, never introduced me to my dad. And I guess I'm better off for it." Christar said, watching as Vaehra's fingers twitched towards her dagger. 

Jon regarded him closely, the way he watched Vaehra and the guards, cocking his head to the side, ears twitching slightly through his hair. He was calculating, Jon realized. He followed Christar's gaze and where his ears twitched to see a guard slowly inching towards where Christar was chained, hand on his sword.

"He is a prisoner of the _Queen_!" Sansa screamed, snapping Jon's attention away from Christar's analysis of the room. Jon looked up just in time to see Sansa stomp her foor, her hands as fists at her side.

"You are no Queen!" Vaehra yelled. Sansa glared at the guards behind Vaehra, narrowing her eyes. The guards stepped forward, swords drawn. Vaehra whipped around, daggers drawn. She didn't have a chance, Jon realized. He startled as he heard a clanking, looking down to see Christar clench his hands into fists and pull them apart, snapping the chains binding his hands to his waist as easily as if they'd been made of glass. He climbed to his feet, turning to the guard that was now within a meter of him, punching the guard in the face with a roar and grabbing the guards sword.

Christar swung the sword, blocking one of the Northmen from slicing Vaehra's thigh with it. One of the remaining guards swung his sword at Christar, colliding with his scale covered shoulder. The sword glanced off his shoulder harmlessly, giving Christar a chance to whirl around, grabbing the guards wrist and twisting it around with a growl and baring his teeth. 

He turned to look at Jon, throwing the sword he held towards him. Jon caught it clumsily, turning and swinging it at the guard who had tried charging him from the side. The guard blocked his swing with his own sword, the clang resounding through the room as Christar lifted his foot and kicked the guard back over a table. Vaehra flipped one of her daggers, holding it by the tip and threw it towards Sansa, pinning the sleeve of her gown to the edge of the table behind her.

"Stop!" Sansa howled. Everybody froze and Jon turned to look at his sister, her eyes burning with the fury of a thousand fires. 

"Everybody stop it, right now." She hissed. Vaehra straightened from her attack position, dagger still bared. Christar was panting heavily, the scales on his shoulder stood on end. His eyes were more gold than green now, and he was making a low hissing noise in the back of his throat. It was impossible for humans to breathe fire, right?

"Your guards swung the first blow." Vaehra growled. Sansa took a deep breath, tugging at the dagger that pinned her sleeve. Vaehra stepped forward, grabbing the handle of the dagger and pulling it from the table. Vaehra walked towards the door, sheathing her daggers. Christar shook his hair out, walking behind Vaehra towards the doors. Two burly Northmen stepped forward and blocked her path.

"You are not leaving here until I say you are." Sansa said. Vaehra turned to look at her, glancing out the window of the great hall behind her.

"We're not?" Vaehra asked, slowly stepping towards the window. Jon glanced out the same window to see white scales glint past. Christar seemed to pick up on her intent, stepping between Vaehra and the window. Jon walked towards the two as well, wondering what she was thinking.

"No. You're not. And for that stunt with my guards I may take all three of you as prisoners." Sansa said, brushing off her gown. She glared at Jon, who was still holding the sword Christar had tossed him. Jon dropped the sword on the ground with a clatter.

"I'm not a fan of your dungeon. It's too cold." Christar said, sprinting towards the window with Vaehra following. He jumped through the broken panes of glass, yet to be repaired from the fight with the dead, landing in a crouch on Ataim's back. Vaehra followed soon after, landing on Ataim's wing and running up it as the dragon leapt into the air. Guards swarmed the small space between the sept and the great hall as more guards on the wall aimed their scorpions to Dessaly, still standing in the snow and growling angrily at the guards. Jon braced his gloved hands against the stones, ready to leap out as well.

"Jon!" Sansa yelled. He turned to look at his sister.

"Another dragon queen? Do you care so little about your own Kingdom?" She asked him. Jon felt torn, Sansa was his family, Winterfell his home, yet, Vaehra and Christar were so alluring, their way of life so unique. And when he heard Dessaly's questioning chirp from outside, he knew he could never turn down the Valyrians.

"I don't know how you can get out of this one Sansa." Jon said sadly, before jumping out the window and landing on Dessaly's back with a thump. Dessaly sprinted towards the wall, leaping onto it and pushing off, spreading her wings and flying to catch up with Ataim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves, I need to get serious for a moment.   
So, some people don't seem to realize this is an AU. Alternate Universe.   
Here's the definition:   
An alternative universe (also known as AU, alternative timeline, alternate timeline, alternative reality, or alternate reality) is the occurrence of canonical facts about the setting or characterization of a particular fictional universe being explored in a non-canonical way.  
This means this story WILL NOT follow canon. It also won't always adhere to the laws of Earth or common laws of society. This story will be what I want it to be, the characters will be and act how I want them to be and act, and I would appreciate if the caps locked comments telling me to "stop writing such nonsense" would stop.   
This being said, I don't mind questions about the story. I also don't mind discussing certain points and engaging with readers, It actually delights me when people want to know more! Even criticism is appreciated as long as it's done politely. If you want to interact with me please do it respectfully. I am writing this simply because I want to, and I am not obligated to endure any sort of harassment or bullying.
> 
> **To address some points.  
-Jon has his apprehensions about Sansa ruling the North because it's part of the story.  
-I realize that normally the King carries on a royal bloodline. His children have first claim to the throne. However in this story, because Banya Rahthone was the one to lead the kingdom to the new land the royal family follows the bloodline of the mother. Because that's how it is in this story. Royalty is a societal construct anyway and the only reason King's carry the bloodline is because early societies decided it to be that way. Because of this, early societies could have very well decided the Queen would carry the bloodline, as they did in this story with Valyrians. This is also not the first time there has been a Queen in the Game of Thrones universe (despite the fact that this is an AU and I have mentioned this in multiple places).
> 
> Thank you if you've read this, and if it doesn't apply to you and you've been polite, then don't worry loves it's not for you.


	5. Dancing Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**
> 
> Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.

The celebration when Vaehra met with the rest of the flock near Kings Landing was unlike any Jon had seen before. They danced and drank like Westerosi men and women, but the music was different, the drink was not wine, it was a drink he'd never tasted before. It was strong and smelled like something you could use to clean wounds. Christar had been given a spare change of clothes and Vaehra had fixed his hair the way she'd fixed Jon's.

He was now draped in a thick white cloak, one with a soft black ruff of fur around his neck that reached up and tickled his throat. The black scales that crept up his neck contrasted starkly against the white cloak and his green eyes. Vaehra had pulled his hair back into a series of braids, pulling his hair away from his face.

The steps were unfamiliar to Jon, but the riders pulled him in anyway, spinning him around and passing partners. Behind them, the dragons danced as well. They pranced around a bonfire in a circle, twining tails and bowing heads, hopping from foot to foot, dipping their wings and dancing in the air. It was joyous, it was fun, it was accepting. 

"I've never danced like this before." Jon said, approaching Christar where he stood at the fire. There was a large pot, large enough to fit an entire ox, suspended over the fire. It had been there since they met with the flock. The first thing Christar had done once Vaehra wrestled him into a cloak, was go out hunting. He'd brought back two deer, cleaning them and butchering them quickly and dropping them into the pot with a few seasonings, potatoes, and chopped vegetables. The meat had released juice as it roasted, and the smell rising from the pot was making Jon's mouth water. Christar tapped the metal spoon off on the edge of the pot, turning to Jon with a smile.

"No? It's a common one in Valyria. We all had to learn it as children in school." Christar said. He hung the spoon from the edge of the pot, grabbing the fire poker and jabbing at the dying flames. He looked towards the group of dragons, spotting Ataim looping around the red dragon, Matanyx.

"Ataim!" Christar yelled. The blue dragon whipped his head around, prancing gleefully towards Christar. He glanced at the fire, lowering his head and breathing a small jet of flame onto the wood before nuzzling his nose against Christar's chest in a search for attention.

"Good dragon, off you go now, you fuckin' nut." Christar said. Ataim chittered happily, loping back towards the group of dragons who welcomed him with open wings. Jon watched as Christar eyed the pot, reaching in with a large fork and stabbing the meat.

"Do you always cook?" Jon asked, settling himself on the ground next to Christar, looking up at him quizzically. Christar pulled the fork from the pot with a carrot skewered onto the end, placing it in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He hummed, licking his lips before taking another carrot on the fork and offering it to Jon.

"Try that." He said. Jon ate the carrot off the fork, licking around his mouth to get the bit of juice that had dripped into his beard. Christar chuckled at him.

"That's why I shave mine. Anyway, good or no?" He asked. Jon tilted his head, thinking.

"It's good, but it's almost missing something." He said. Christar nodded, turning to the pack on the ground and rifling through it before pulling out a small vial and uncapping it, swirling the bottle and lifting it under his nose. He took a deep breath and smiled before holding the bottle out to Jon.

"Smell that." He said. Jon took it hesitantly, sniffing lightly. He was surprised to smell roasting meat from the bottle.

"What is that?" Jon asked, handing the bottle back to Christar. Christar let the smallest bit of the brown liquid drip from the bottle into the pot, reaching in with the large fork and stirring the roasting meat and vegetables.

"I call it liquid smoke. It gives everything a stronger smokey flavor, we do most of our cooking in pots and sometimes I miss a good spit-roasted cut of venison like mum used to make." Christar said, pulling out a chunk of potato and biting into it.

"ah fuckin' beautiful." Christar said, offering Jon the rest of the potato. He took the fork, biting off the potato and sighing.

"You sir, are a fucking genius." Jon said, handing the fork back with a hearty laugh. Christar thanked him, mocking the bow that the players do at the end of their performance and smiling. 

"So my question earlier," Jon continued. Christar set the fork down, sitting next to Jon on the ground and crossing his legs in front of him. "do you always cook?"

"When we go on trips, yes. Vaehra always takes me, I joke its because she misses my food too much." Christar said, jostling Jon with his broad shoulder. Jon chuckled, watching as Christar's green eyes glinted mischievously. 

"Normally, no. I'm not sure if you could tell by looking at me, but I get kicked out of the kitchen quite a lot." Christar said, looking to the group of dancing Valyrian's, Vaehra twirling in the center, her black cloak whipping around her as her hair flowed effortlessly.

"You? No." Jon said, bumping Christar the way he'd done earlier. Christar smiled at Jon.

"The kitchen maids don't like me in there. But once a week, Vaehra forces them to let me cook a meal. I use about seven of those pots, it's enough to feed the whole of the Valyrian capitol, and I take it to the poorer towns." Christar said. He pushed himself to his feet with a huff. He'd long ago discarded his cloak and Jon could see the way his muscles rippled under his tunic.

"My mum used to feed the people in the poor region of the capitol. It was the most she could do, she'd use our small kitchen to feed about 200 or so people." Christar peeked into the pot before grabbing the fire poker and returning to where he sat with Jon, drawing pictures in the snow with the fire poker.

"When Vaehra took over the kingdom from Queen Vysenya and made me Lord commander of her Queensguard, I took full advantage of my access to the kitchen." Christar said. Jon looked up to the Valyrians still dancing around the fire, watching one twirling a staff that was flaming on both ends above his head, tossing it in the air and doing a flip before catching it and blowing on one end of the staff. A fireball shot from the end of the staff around the circle.

"I took what mum had done and extended it. I had the means to help, so I did." Christar said. Jon finally recognized the peninsula of Asshai, with the shadowlands above it. Christar was drawing the map of Valyria, every town, every path, river, even the great volcano Vaehra had spoken about.

There were dozens of cities, spaced out everywhere from the Bleeding Sea to the Shadowlands and the Grey Waste. There were even a few in the Mossovy forest and on the snow covered chain of the Thousand Islands. And nestled at the furthest North end of the Shadowlands between the great volcano and the mountains, he drew a large circle.

"It's a beautiful Kingdom." Christar said, standing up again and poking at the roaring fire. He brushed a few loose curls behind his ear, smiling into the pot of food. Jon watched the way he moved, the way he smiled into the pot, the way he worried his bottom lip between his teeth while thinking, and wondered for the first time what it would feel like to kiss a man. He quickly shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. It wasn't natural.

"Are you two going to be hermits over here all night?" Jon heard an unfamiliar voice say. He looked up to see one of the female riders approaching. She had long dark brown hair held back in a single braid. She wore tight trousers and thick boots. Her cloak was a dusty brown color with a gray and white marbled fur ruff.

"Yes Jaerla we are." Christar joked, grabbing the fork and sticking it into the pot, pulling it out with a few vegetables and a chunk of meat skewered onto it.

"I know why you're over here Jaerla, take it and go." Christar said, handing Jaerla the fork. She ate the meat and vegetables off it, sighing happily.

"Missed you at dinner last night. It was good, but Vaehra can't make it the way you do." Jaerla said, handing the fork back to Christar. He chuckled, sticking the fork back into the pot and handing a piece of meat he'd skewered to Jon.

"Sorry Jearla, I was a bit preoccupied last night. What with the Northern 'Queen' trying to make me her bitch." Christar said. Jon tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully and handing the fork back to Christar. Jearla chuckled and walked back to the group of dancing Valyrians.

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked Christar. Christar cocked his head to the side, looking at Jon quizzically.

"What did Sansa do?" Jon continued.

"Ah, she made me an offer. A proposal, actually. Invited me to marry her, help her create heirs, and in exchange she wouldn't behead me." Christar said. Jon was taken aback. After the ordeal with Tyrion and Ramsey he couldn't imagine Sansa wanting marriage or children.

"I of course refused. I'd prefer to marry the person or people I marry because I love them. Not because there's the threat of beheading. Besides, I'm not ready to take care of any munchkins yet." Christar settled himself back on the ground next to Jon. He wasn't married yet and he was how old?

"What do you mean people? You're not married?" Jon asked. Christar looked at him bewildered, then burst out laughing.

"No Jon, oh by the great beast no, I'm not married. Happily not married yet." Christar said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"I'm only 25 of course I'm not married. I've got time, besides, the only person I'd consider marrying so far is busy reintroducing dragons to the world." Christar said, shifting his gaze to Vaehra with a content smile. Jon followed his gaze. Vaehra spotted the two looking at her, breaking into a wide grin and waving to the two men.

"W-what do you mean by people?" Jon asked, still confused.

"I mean people. More than one person. Do you not do that here?" Christar asked, seeming taken aback. Jon shook his head.

"Well if more than two people all love each other they can all marry. Vaehra's cousin has two mothers and one father." Christar laid back in the snow, sighing happily. The locks of hair that had escaped from the braid made him look like he had a lions mane as his hair flared around his head. He closed his eyes, one arm under his head and one resting over his stomach. Jon looked down at him, wondering why it was he wasn't married yet. He then shook his head, it didn't matter what he thought.

"Isn't it a sin to, y'know." Jon said. Christar cracked one eye open, looking at Jon with a raised eyebrow.

"Continue." Christar said smoothly. Jon hesitated, watching as Christar's chest rose and fell with each breath. He fought the urge to lie down next to him with his head on Christar's chest. He looked warm.

"Well I mean, they dragged Loras Tyrell down to the sept and imprisoned him for loving Renly Baratheon." Jon said as he remembered the events of the sept explosion. Christar sat bolt upright, a growl in his throat.

"You may think it's a sin here Jon Snow, but in Valyria, you live by your own rules. God's don't have a say." He said. Jon looked at him, wondering what it was like in Valyria. To live somewhere where the rulers were kind, the religion accepting, and dragons roamed the sky.

Christar stood from the ground, returning to the pot. He peeked into it, reaching up to grab the metal handle. Jon expected him to draw back at the heat of it, but Christar simply lifted the heavy pot one handed from the hook it was hanging from and set it aside the fire in the snow.

"Jon, do you think the Gods exist?" Christar said over his shoulder. Jon stood from his position and stood next to Christar.

Jon stood quietly, reminiscing on his time in the realm of the dead. There had been nothing. There were no gods, no land, no sea, no life after death, no reincarnation even, as some believed.

"No. I don't believe the Gods exist. If they did, why would they allow war." He said, watching as Christar reached into the pot with a fork and dagger to carve the two deer.

"Then why live by the laws of something you don't believe in?" Christar questioned. Jon opened his mouth to respond before realizing he couldn't add anything to that. Christar turned towards the group, whistling sharply. The group stopped their dancing and the two riders who had been playing instruments stopped playing.

"Dinner's ready!" Christar called. The group ran over with whoops and hollers, the dragons chattering in glee as well as they followed the group. Christar stepped back as the riders grabbed bowls and forks, using the large spoon Christar had set out to scoop meat and vegetables into their bowls before retreating to where their dragons sat to sit beside them and eat.

"Come on Jon, don't be shy." Vaehra said, gently pulling Jon towards the pot and handing him a bowl.

"This is one of Christar's better dishes, if I do say myself." Vaehra said. Christar chuckled and Vaehra ran her hand up his back, pausing at his right shoulder where the scales covered.

"Even better than last night?" Jon questioned. He didn't know if anything could top the Capon soup he'd eaten the night before.

"Oh so much better. Did you use that, what was it, liquid smoke?" Vaehra addressed Christar. Christar filled his own bowl with the meat and vegetables, scooping some of the broth at the bottom in as well.

"And some smoked salt." Christar said, handing the spoon to Vaehra. She smiled and filled Jon's bowl first, then her own. Jon followed Vaehra and Christar to the dragons. Vaehra settled herself on Vilor's foreleg and began eating her dinner, while Christar did the same with Ataim. Jon spotted Dessaly pressed against Aligosa's purple side. Jon approached her with a warm whistle. Dessaly whipped her head around and chortled happily to him. Jon patted her nose as he approached before leaning against her shoulder to eat. 

Soon after dinner was done and the leftovers had been divided among the dragons, the riders all settled down to sleep. Christar seemed slightly lost, before picking up his cloak and resting his hand on Ataim's foreleg as he walked with the dragon to the spot they'd slept before. Ataim walked ahead of Christar, breathing a concentrated jet of fire onto the ground as he spun in a circle, settling down and curling himself on the heated patch of stone. Christar climbed onto Ataim's foreleg, shifting and struggling to make himself comfortable.

Jon had forgotten that Christar likely used to sleep with the large black dragon, Daeragon, rather than Ataim. Daeragon had been a stocky dragon, with broad shoulders and large wings. Ataim was lean and smaller than Dessaly. Jon felt pity for a moment before squirming out from under Dessaly's chin where she'd nestled him for the night. Dessaly lifted her head and hummed sleepily. Jon rested his hand on Dessaly's nose and whispered quietly to her before walking over to Christar.

"Christar, are you alright?" Jon asked. Ataim was watching Christar squirm uncomfortable, and looked like he was debating just dumping the rider onto the ground and finding somewhere else to sleep.

"I'm fine. Just, not used to sleeping on Ataim." Christar grumbled.

"Well, It's not much, but Dessaly's a little bigger, she's got plenty of room, if you want." Jon offered. Christar sat up, looking at Dessaly, who was curled happily into a ball, and back to Ataim who looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Sure." Christar said, sliding off Ataim's foreleg and patting the dragon's shoulder. Ataim sighed in relief and rolled onto his side, tucking his forelegs against his chest. Christar followed Jon as he walked towards Dessaly. Jon patted Dessaly's shoulder and she lifted her head to peer at him.

"Hey Dess, mind if we share with Christar?" Jon asked. Dessaly chirped, shifting herself to allow Jon to curl up near her chest. Christar climbed onto her foreleg, lying down and shifting to get comfortable. He'd sat still for merely five seconds, when Dessaly rolled Christar onto the ground between her forelegs and next to Jon. Christar landed with a huff and was about to sit up when Dessaly curled herself tighter around the two riders.

"I forgot that about vixen's." Christar grumbled. Jon squirmed to roll over and face Christar.

"They're very broody." Christar said, turning to face Jon as well. Jon wasn't sure how he felt about being this close to Christar. He wasn't sure if his unreasonable desire for him was just due to the mysterious nature of the man, or if it was something more. Christar took a deep breath, turning his gaze away from Jon.

Dessaly sighed deeply, tucking her chin further and pushing Christar closer to Jon. So close their chests were touching. Jon held his breath, waiting for Christar to make the first move. Jon finally let out the breath he was holding and tucked his chin against his chest. Christar rested his chin atop Jon's head.

"Sorry, if I'd known she was going to do this I wouldn't have brought you over." Jon said quietly. He heard Christar's chest rumble against his own.

"Don't worry about it." He said calmly. Jon let out a sigh of relief and settled in to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more time loves.  
Somebody pointed out that while readers can't control how I write, I can't control how they comment. Which is correct, and why I only asked for people to be polite. But I realize you don't have to follow that, so from now on go ahead and ask questions, give feedback, interact if you like, I appreciate those and will respond to you to clarify anything I can.  
That being said, I won't respond if I don't feel you're being kind. I can't control how readers comment, but I can control how I react.  
Thank you for reading loves, I hope you have a great day.


	6. Scales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This in an AU, meaning Alternate Universe, not everything will match the canon and not every character will remain true to their canon self.**
> 
> Also it says in the tags, "Sansa is a bad guy". If you love Sansa Stark than don't read this unless you're prepared for her to be a bad guy.

He awoke in the morning with his back pressed against Christar's chest Christar's arm under his head. Jon shuffled around and heard Christar let out a hum. He finally freed himself from the larger man's grip, trying to sit up only to feel his head connect with Dessaly's throat. Dessaly let out a slight cough before shaking the snow from her head and lifting it with a grumble.

"Sorry Dess." Jon whispered, patting her chest. She hummed and laid her head down on her foreleg. Jon cautiously stepped over Christar, emerging from between Dessaly's front paws and stretching with a mighty yawn. He looked around to see most of the rest of the riders still asleep, and Vaehra and Vilor nowhere to be found. 

Jon walked towards the spot where he'd seen the large gold dragon lay down the night before to find his shape already being filled in by the light snowfall. The large plates of armor had been discarded off to the side, along with his saddle. Jon glanced around, seeing Aligosa and Sedu still curled into tight balls, nestled between Ataim and the orange dragon. Jon started pacing around, looking for any sign of footprints. He followed a large string of dragon tracks to an open space leading down to the beach.

He heard the flapping of wings, looking up to see a large dragon-shaped shadow make it's way through the sky. The shape made a slow loop, going out over the waves and back. The shadow suddenly blew a small jet of flame into the air ahead of it, temporarily illuminating sparkling gold scales and the small figure on it's back. Jon sat in the snow, watching the way Vilor flew. He was purposeful and graceful without his armor. He glid through the sky, barely moving his wings. When he finally circled back towards the beach and landed without a sound, save for the sand shifting through his claws and the waves hushing at his feet, Jon could barely bring himself to move.

"I can see you there Jon Snow." He heard Vaehra's voice call from the beach. Jon stood and took a hesitant step towards her, stumbling on his legs like a newborn deer. Vilor strode confidently towards him, Vaehra standing on his back with her arms out to either side and her head tilted back, snow lightly dusting her lashes.

Vilor stopped before Jon, bowing his head and lowering himself to his elbows. He tilted his wings down in a mighty bow as Vaehra effortlessly walked up his neck to step down his snout and onto the ground. Vilor stood just as gracefully as he'd bowed and folded his wings back against his side.

Vaehra stepped towards Jon. Her heavy black cloak had since been discarded and she was wearing nothing more than a thin russet red night dress. The wind whipped the dress and her hair around her as she stepped through the sand towards Jon. Jon swore that with Vilor behind her and the sun just rising over the water, she looked ethereal. 

"What are you doing?" Jon questioned as Vaehra stopped a few paces away from him. She shuddered slightly and Jon could see how she shook against the cold winds and snow. He stepped forward, removing his black cloak and draping it around Vaehra's shoulders. She clasped it around her, pulling it tighter around her shoulders and shuddering slightly against the cold winds.

"Thank you." She muttered, turning back to where Vilor stood. Vilor lifted his chin, throat bobbing in a deep keen. She smiled at him, before turning to Jon.

"My mother always used to get angry with me for taking him out for night rides. He's been training to be a war dragon since he was five." Vaehra said. Vilor lowered his head with a hum, pressing his nose against Vaehra's side and inhaling the scent from the black fur cloak. Vaehra ran her hand along the side of his gold snout, reaching for Jon's hand. Jon placed his hand in hers, only for Vaehra to press his hand against Vilor's nose. He could feel the head radiating off his scales.

"He may be a war dragon, but he was my best friend first." Vaehra whispered, resting her head against Vilor's forehead. Vilor warbled quietly to her and Vaehra pressed a kiss between Vilor's eyes. He hummed happily, gently pulling his hand away. Jon could feel the power radiating from Vilor.

"I've never felt closer to him than I do when we're riding together. No armor, no saddles, no control over one another, just freedom." Vaehra said. Vilor shook himself out before lifting one wing, reaching his head around and gnawing on some loose scales on his side.

"You'll never feel closer to the moon than standing on a dragons back. More at one with the clouds than flying through them, more relaxed than basking on a dragons scales." Vaehra said. Jon watched the way she looked at Vilor, the way her frame was hidden by the black fur cloak around her and the way she smiled at Jon when she looked at him.

She suddenly reached out, taking Jon's wrist and walking towards Vilor. Vilor turned to look at them, lowering one wing. Vaehra stepped onto it, urging Jon to do the same. Vilor lifted his wing, allowing Vaehra to walk straight across it and settle herself on his bare back. Jon sat just behind her, wondering where he could hold onto when Vilor started walking. He expected him to leap into the air before taking off, as he'd seen him do plenty of times. Instead, Vilor walked towards the cliff wall. He lifted himself onto his hind legs, digging his claws into the rock face and climbing up the rock. Jon cling tightly to the spikes in front of him as Vilor hauled himself onto the top of the cliff. Vaehra chuckled.

"What was that?" Jon asked breathlessly. Vilor turned to look out to the sea before stepping off the edge and flaring his wings. The wind caught him, carrying him out over the inky black waves. He started flapping, rising higher and higher into the air. Once he'd leveled his flight, Vaehra pulled her legs underneath her and planted her bare feet on the dragon's back. 

She pushed herself into a standing position as Vilor flew, heel to toe on his back with her arms out on either side of her. The cloak whipped over Jon's head as she unclasped it, reaching behind her to hand it to Jon. He took it, clasping it back around himself as Vaehra turned towards him. She walked around him on Vilor's back. Jon scooted forward to sit where she'd been a few moments ago before turning to watch her. She held her arms above her head before dropping into a cartwheel. She landed with her feet planted firmly on Vilor's back with a giggle. Jon watched as she spun and flipped about on the dragons back, always followed by a laugh or chuckle. Eventually she stopped, turning to face Jon.

Vaehra reached out for Jon's hand. He offered it to her and she gripped it firmly. She tugged on his hand, helping him into a standing position on Vilor's shoulders. He couldn't understand how she kept her balance on the moving dragon as Vilor's shoulders pumped with his wing beats. Vaehra lifted their hands above their heads, doing a spin under his arm, letting go of his hand and doing a flip behind him before taking his hand again, leaning backwards with one leg straight in front of her. 

Jon supported her weight as she continued dancing around him, until Vaehra let go of his hand and had him sit down. Vaehra chuckled and approached one of Vilor's wings. She knelt down, tapping the base of it gently. Vilor seemed to take the hint, pumping his wings to carry them higher. Jon held tightly to the spikes as Vilor did so. Vaehra turned to Jon, stepping out onto Vilor's wing once he'd stopped flapping.

"Hold on tight, and watch this." Vaehra said. Jon tilted his head as Vaehra turned to face the back of Vilor's wing. She ran towards the edge of the webbing, leaping off with a somersault. Jon opened his mouth to cry out to her as she started falling, only to watch Vilor's wings snap against his side as he tucked himself into a nosedive. Jon gripped the spikes on Vilor's back tightly as Vilor caught up to Vaehra, falling alongside her for a moment as she laughed, the air whipping the sound from her mouth. She suddenly spread out her arms and legs, falling a little slower. Vilor swooped beneath her, spreading his wings slowly. Vaehra landed effortlessly on Vilor's back as Vilor spread his wings further and leveled himself, talon tips brushing the waves. 

Jon panted breathlessly, looking at Vaehra in disbelief. She laughed when she saw Jon's face. He heard Vilor chortle beneath him followed by the sounds of another dragon's wingbeats. He turned to look, seeing Ataim and Christar next to them. Christar was balanced on Ataim's neck, watching Vaehra closely.

"Is that the best you've got?" He called. Vaehra stuck her tongue out at him, doing a cartwheel on Vilor's back as he rose into the air. Christar laughed as Ataim beat his wings, rising further into the air to follow Vilor. The two dragons leveled their flight, wingtips brushing together. Christar glanced to Vaehra as she nodded at him, both running towards each other across the dragons wings, leaping into a flip as they reached the edge of their dragons wing. As they jumped, the dragons pumped their wings, only to spread them in time to catch each rider.

Jon watched as Christar walked towards him up Vilor's wings as Ataim and Vaehra did lazy flips and barrel rolls beside them.

"Is this a normal thing?" Jon asked as Christar stood beside him on Vilor's shoulders. Christar laughed his deep booming laugh as he sat next to Jon. Ataim flew above Vilor before tucking his wings and diving towards the waves, only to snap his wings open and skim the water at the last second.

"Fairly normal. Especially the dragon swap. She and I used to do it with Daeragon and Vilor all the time. Occasionally with Sedu and Ataim." Christar said. Vaehra and Ataim leveled off next to Vilor again as Vaehra walked towards the edge of Ataim's wing, stepping on to Vilor's and joining the two men on Vilor's back.

"Are you not feeling adventurous?" Vaehra asked Christar, reaching out and brushing her fingertips along the scales peeking from above his tunic collar. Christar rested his hand atop hers, lifting it to his lips and kissing the back of it.

"Well my Queen, I did fall from the sky very recently." He said. Vaehra chuckled, punching his shoulder lightly. Christar laughed with her, the scales on his shoulder lifting slightly. Jon reached out and delicately ran his fingers over the scales. They bristled at his touch for a moment, before Christar took a deep breath and the scales flattened themselves against his shoulder again.

"Where did they come from?" Jon asked. Christar looked to Jon as Jon continued stroking the scales. They felt smooth, almost soft to the touch, and they were warm. Not warm like Dessaly and Vilor, but warm like only Christar could be.

"When mum was pregnant with me, she fell ill. She was very close to death, my dad was worried for me but, he and my mum never really got along." Christar ran his hand over his pants, brushing some light snowflakes from the fabric.

"Queen Vysenya was a close friend of my mother's. Her dragon, Sadirth, had recently lain a batch of infertile eggs. An extreme rarity, as normally when dragons don't mate they don't lay any eggs. Vysenya had heard of the healing properties the eggs can have. She asked Sadirth if she could take one, for Nesaehna she said. Sadirth said yes. Vysenya took one of the eggs, carefully cracked the top off of it and looked inside." The scales on Christar's shoulders stood on end as Jon brushed against the spot just under his ear behind his jaw.

"Vysenya says inside looked like a chicken egg, with a green yolk rather than yellow, and a cream colored fluid surrounding it. She mixed some of the cream fluid with dandelion and made a paste, then took the yolk and mixed it with goldenseal, ginger root, and milk thistle and made a drink. She took it to my mother and had her drink every last drop while spreading the paste over her belly and begging for me to be safe." Jon could see Christar's tunic shift as his scales settled once more.

"It worked. A few days later my mother was well again. The Maestars were in disbelief, and wanted to research the medicinal properties of dragon eggs. Vysenya forbid it. She would not have anybody stealing eggs from dragons or experimenting on them." Christar finished. Vaehra was watching intently.

"When I was born, the skin on my shoulder and chest here," Christar gestured to his right side, "Was a darker color. It didn't matter to mother, she loved me anyway. When I was about three, the scales started to grow in. They were soft and almost fuzzy, but as I grew they hardened and sharpened. Now they're as tough as any dragon's scales." He said.

"He's also immune to fire. We found that out when he fell into a forge as a four year old." Vaehra interjected. Christar shot her a halfhearted glare.

"The poor blacksmith nearly had a heart attack when I stepped out of the fire with burning clothes and said it tickled." Christar said as Vaehra rubbed his shoulder. He smiled at her as Jon pulled his hand away from Christar's scales. 

The three were silent for a moment as the dragons flew through the air, making lazy loops around the beach. Jon watched the sun peeking over the ocean, jumping and almost falling off Vilor's back when a large red dragon appeared next to them, Matanyx, with the rider Jaerla on his back.

"Vaehra, Bran the Broken requests a meeting with you." Jaerla said. Vaehra nodded, settling herself on Vilor's back and patting his shoulder. Vilor obediently flew towards the beach.


	7. Home

"Christar, Jon, I'd like you to accompany me." Vaehra said as she walked towards the two men. She'd changed from the red nightclothes into a nicer pair of trousers and a white tunic, her black and red cloak back in place on her shoulders. She'd draped a type of chain over her shoulders. It was thin with silver links, and created a pattern across the back of her cloak. Christar had a matching one with black links that showed wonderfully within the fur of his white cloak.

Jon felt very under-dressed in his simple clothes and his straight black cloak. Although, looking at the chains, he assumed they were a show of status. An easy way for any Valyrian passersby to recognize the Queen and the head of her queensguard at a glance, as there was no other obvious way to tell them apart from another citizen of the city.

The group of three walked towards the doors of the keep, another pair of guards standing at the door. Rather than get in an argument this time, Vaehra produced the scroll Jaerla had given them that documented the meeting request from Bran. The guards took one look at the scroll before stepping aside to allow the three into the castle.

Christar stood just to the right of Vaehra, half a step behind her. Jon walked behind the two, trying to stay in step with them but failing horribly. They must have walked together like this for years in order for it to become second nature.

"Any idea what Bran could want?" Christar asked Vaehra. Vaehra shrugged, the chain on her back jingling lightly at the movement.

"I can't be sure, but I assume it has something to do with our little excursion in the North." Vaehra said. Jon could understand why Sansa was unhappy. Vaehra had humiliated her in front of her guards and proven herself to be more clever than Sansa. And taken what was likely her first prisoner as Queen of the North.

"I hardly feel bad about that. She killed Daeragon, She deserved much worse than what we gave her." Christar said, his voice dropped low. Jon could see the scales on the side of his neck stand on edge.

Vaehra hummed as she approached the council door. She paused, composing herself and knocking lightly on the door. She was much more diplomatic when the life of the head of her queensguard was not hanging in the balance. The door opened to reveal Sir Brienne standing behind it, the rest of the council members seated at the table behind her. There were two empty seats at the table, one for Brienne, and the other, Jon assumed, for Vaehra.

"Vaehra, I see you got my message." Bran said from his seat. Vaehra stepped into the room, her steps soft compared to the mighty thumps from Christar's boots as he walked. Vaehra approached the seat, gesturing towards it. She was seated next to Ser Bronn, who glanced at her approvingly as she daintily pulled the chair out and settled herself in it, the chains across her cloak clinking lightly against the chair. Christar stood watchfully behind her, despite Bran offering him another chair. Jon stood beside Christar, trying to mimic his authoritative pose.

Brienne sat across from Vaehra as Bronn turned his body to face Vaehra and Bran. Tyrion cleared his throat before speaking up.

"Queen Vaehra," He addressed her. Vaehra turned her attention to Tyrion, long brown hair brushing over her shoulders. Christar turned to face Tyrion as well, green eyes glinting in the candlelight.

"I don't believe I've properly welcomed you to Westeros since your arrival two weeks ago. Our time has been so rushed." Tyrion said. He stood and approached Vaehra, offering him her hand. She shook it firmly, and Tyrion's eyes widened at her strength. He had obviously not expected that from her, but the woman wrangled three full grown dragons every day. She had to be strong.

"Thank you Lord Tyrion, however I hardly believe that is what implored Brandon to ask after me." Vaehra said, pulling her attention away from Tyrion to look at Bronn who had been trying to peek down her tunic since she'd sat down.

"You're much more pleasant when you're not in here screaming in the face of my King like a scorned whore. Perhaps we ought to get you fucked out more often" Bronn said. Brienne raised her eyebrows in shock as Tyrion stared open mouthed. Even Bran seemed shocked at his outburst. Ser Davos opened his mouth to bite back when Vaehra held up a single gloved hand. Jon noticed Christar settle back into a more relaxed position and realized he'd been poised to pounce on Bronn for his words.

"Those are bold words Ser Bronn." Vaehra said calmly. Bronn didn't seem to know how to react to her serenity.

"You're much more pleasant with a blade against your throat, yet I haven't resorted to that." Vaehra said before giving him a pointed look and flicking her fingers towards Christar. He unsheathed a large curved blade from under his cloak.

"Yet." Vaehra finished. Bronn sat back in his seat, watching Christar closely as Vaehra turned her attention to Bran.

"Now, can we please address what this is really about." Vaehra said. Bran nodded with a sly smile, unfurling a raven scroll, clearing his throat and reading aloud.

_"Brandon, I have written this scroll to discuss with you the occurrences at my Kingdom, your home, yesterday. Vaehra Rahthone arrived in Winterfell with two large dragons, threatening my people with fire if they did not surrender immediately. She then turned her blade to me and threatened my life. Our brother, Jon, did nothing to defend his family or rightful kingdom. Vaehra Rahthone, Jon Snow, and Christar Wrintaris have all been declared enemies of the Northern crown, and are to be returned to my Kingdom at once. If you refuse my request, I will have no choice but to declare the Southern crown an enemy of the North as well._

_\- __Queen Sansa of house Stark, First of Her Name, Queen in the North, the Lady Wolf, the Survivor, Savior of the North, Heroine of Winterfell, The Bastard's Widow, The Defier of Dragons, the Un-kneeling, the Cunning Bird_"

Jon was taken aback at the bold words of his sister. Vaehra, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed in the slightest. She remained calm, hands folded delicately in her lap. She raised her chin to Bran.

"Do you believe her words, Brandon?" She asked. Bran rolled the scroll once more, handing it off to Podrick. Bran cleared his throat, looking around to his council.

"I believe the truth. I saw what happened Vaehra, your arrival, the fate of Daeragon, your defense of yourself. What you did was justified, and nobody was killed." Bran said. The corner of Vaehra's mouth twitched upwards and Jon noticed the scales on Christar's neck stand on end. The others noticed the scales as well, and stared quite obviously. Christar shook his hair out, causing the chains to rub against the scales on his neck and make a rattling sound.

"I know Sansa. She was humiliated by you in front of her men. She is still trying to earn the trust of the North, and will see this as a blow to her standing." Bran said. Vaehra said nothing, prompting him to continue.

"She thinks the only way she can regain their respect is by punishing those who spit on the North, which she perceives you have." Bran said. Christar mumbled something about the spit freezing before it left your mouth and Jon had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Well. I will not willingly place myself and the Lord Commander of my Queensguard in the grubby hands of a petulant child. I refrained from causing any damage to her person, and the only injuries caused were out of self defense. I will not be returning to the North unless I decree it is necessary." Vaehra said, making a move to stand from her seat.

"Vaehra, that's not what I was asking." Bran said. Vaehra turned her attention back to him.

"I was asking you, to consider your next plan of action. Sansa will not stop at simply asking nicely. She will send an army. I respect your leadership Vaehra, but the people of Kings Landing cannot stand another siege." Bran said. Vaehra sighed.

"You're right Brandon. They can't stand another siege. I will lead Sansa Stark's forces away from the Southern Kingdoms. We will be temporarily returning to Valyria. You are welcome to inform her of our whereabouts." Vaehra said. Jon immediately felt a lump in his throat. He didn't want them to go, but he didn't know if he could leave his homeland either.

Vaehra stood from her seat, brushing off her tunic and gesturing for Christar and Jon to follow her. Christar adjusted his cloak, the chains jingling against his scales once again. Jon caught Brienne watching him closely with a soft smile as Christar exited the room. Jon felt a surge of jealousy and was momentarily overwhelmed with the urge to whirl Christar around and press his lips against Christar's own, just to show Brienne that he wasn't for her. Then shook the thought from his mind, Christar was a man, and he wasn't for Jon either. No matter how badly Jon thought he loved him. Looking up through the ruined corridor, he spotted three dragons perched atop the walls. Dragons of gold, blue, and white scales, waiting for their riders to return home.

* * *

"Get those pots lashed!" Vaehra called from Vilors back as the dragon dropped three large pots amongst the pile of cooking supplies. Jon was curious how they were going to carry everything back with them. The dragons were large, but not large enough to be able to fly long distances with everything weighing them down.

"Where did Baesegon get off to?" Christar muttered under his breath before stalking off into the snowy woods, his white cloak erasing any trace he was ever there. Jon was about to follow him, when Vaehra landed on the ground next to him with a thump.

"Ah Jon, could you help me get the poles for the tent lashed together in a bundle?" She said. Jon looked at her quizzically. They hadn't used any tents, just slept with the dragons. Vaehra seemed to be able to read his mind, or recognize the confusion on his face.

"The dragons are good to sleep with in cold weather, but when we stop to camp in the great sand sea, they are much too warm. We use the tents then." She explained, kneeling next to the pile of supplies and picking a few long stiff poles from the pile and lashing them together with twine. Jon knelt next to her, helping her prepare a few bundles.

They had only been at it for a few moments when they heard a thunderous crashing noise. Jon looked to see Christar emerging from the forest, with a large brown dragon following behind him. The dragon was taller than Vilor, and one wing could stretch from Drogon's nose to his tail tip. The dragon raised it's head, letting out a deep bellow and shaking snow from its horns. Jon felt the ground shake as this dragon walked and watched as it's tail splintered trees at the base.

"There he is!" Vaehra called, standing from where she'd knelt and jogging towards the large dragon. She held her arms open wide, and the dragon lowered his head to press his snout against Vaehra's chest. Her arms barely reached from one side of his nose to the other, and when the dragon opened it's mouth in a happy warble Jon noticed that every one of his teeth were as long as Vaehra's sternum was tall. Vaehra didn't seem phased by this however, and just rubbed the dragons face before walking towards the pile. 

Jon noticed that this dragon was wearing a sort of complex harness, with many loops and hooks built into it. It was similar, he realized, to something you would put on a pack donkey for a long trip. This was their pack dragon. He now understood how the Valyrians were able to carry all their supplies.

"My biggest strongest boy." He heard Valyria talking to the large dragon the way a child would talk to a dog they were fond of. He felt the sudden pang of missing Ghost. He wished he'd had a chance to bring the wolf along with him, but he had no idea how he would've brought him with.

"My Queen," Jon heard Christar say. He looked to see Vaehra pull away from Baesegon, looking to the forest to see a dirty direwolf emerge from between the trees, limping slightly and covered in dirt from nose to tail. Jon felt his heart swell as he ran towards the wolf.

"Ghost!" He called. Ghost limped quickly towards him, his tail wagging with joy. Jon dropped to his knees and ruffled Ghost's dirty fur as Ghost licked Jon's face excitedly.

"Good boy, good boy Ghost. How did you get here?" Jon asked as Ghost panted in his face. He heard Vaehra chuckle behind him as she approached.

"Well I'll be." She said, kneeling a respectful distance away and offering her hand. Ghost flicked his ears back, licking his muzzle anxiously and wagging his tail low against his back legs. Vaehra remained still, waiting for Ghost to approach her. Ghost took a tentative step towards her, sniffing her outstretched hand curiously. Vaehra reached slowly into the pocket of her trousers, offering Ghost a bit of elk jerky. He took it gently, licking his lips after he'd swallowed it whole.

"I've only seen a direwolf once before. She was nothing like this one." Vaehra said as Ghost licked her hand gently before returning to Jon's side. Jon stood from the ground as Vaehra approached them. Jon heard a huffing and turned to see Baesegon sniffing Ghost curiously. Ghost whirled around and snapped at the dragon's nose, causing Baesegon to pull back, flaring his wings to keep his balance as he stumbled over his own tail and landed in the snow with a sound like the keep falling in on itself. 

Christar rushed to the brown dragon's head, checking his snout for any damage and gently rubbing between his nostrils as the dragon released a sound that was almost a whimper. Christar rested his forehead on the large dragon's snout and shushed him gently.

"Ghost!" Jon admonished. Ghost lowered his ears and ducked his head, tail tucked between his back legs.

"Oh don't worry Jon, Baesegon is only five. It just startled him, dragon hide is tough as iron." Vaehra said. Jon shook his head at the wolf. Vaehra returned to the pile of supplies once Baesegon rolled himself back onto his feet and lay down next to the pile. Vaehra and the other riders began attaching their supplies to the leather harness, leaving out a few extra saddles. The saddles were similar to any other saddle he'd seen, but almost crossed with a side saddle. On either side there was a notch that looked like the riders tucked their legs into, with flat platforms where their feet would sit. The saddle was longer in the front, with two handles on either side. Jon assumed it was for the riders to lay against and hold onto the handles. At the back of the seat, there was a normal saddle back, meant to lean back against.

"Jon, Grab one of those saddles." Vaehra said as she and the riders finished packing the rest of the supplies and armor onto Baesegon's harness. Jon walked towards one, lifting it from the ground and grunting at the weight. These were much heavier than a normal leather saddle. Jon looked towards Vaehra as if asking what to do. She laughed and waved her hand. Jon started as he heard a light thump behind him, turning to see Dessaly behind him. She sniffed at the saddle in his hands before chirping and lowering herself to her belly with her wing outstretched. Jon stepped onto her wing, and Dessaly lifted it and folded it against her back again. Jon settled the saddle in the spot on her shoulders where no spikes grew, letting the short straps poke out from under the edges of the saddle.

"Good! Now," Vaehra approached Christar, handing him a bunch of leather straps. Christar chuckled and walked towards Dessaly, tossing the straps onto her back. Jon barely managed to grab them before they hit him in the face, or sailed over Dessaly's back and landed in the snow on the opposite side of her. Christar scaled Dessaly's foreleg, saying hello to her when she twisted her head around to look at him quizzicaly.

"I'm going to teach you how to saddle a dragon." Christar said with a grin. Jon smiled. He wondered how the saddles worked. Once Christar had gone through explaining where each strap fit and how to tell them apart, he explained how to attach them to the shorter straps on the saddle. He demonstrated one, then let Jon attach the rest, checking his handiwork.

"Great, now let me show you how to make it so your saddle doesn't fall off." Christar said. He slid down Dessaly's side, landing by her back feet with a thump. Jon followed him, landing in the snow and stumbling to a halt. Christar caught him with a hand around his wrist, pulling Jon to a standing position and clapping Jon on the shoulder as he laughed. His scales fluttered in waves along his neck as he laughed, and Jon resisted the urge to reach out and touch them again.

Christar went through the process of hooking the straps together around Dessaly's belly just behind her wings, then the heavy padded strap that went in front of her wing, behind her forelegs, and fastened across her sternum. It was similar to a cinch on a horses saddle, and Christar explained that it was just as important as one as well. He then showed him how to fasten the straps that went diagonally across her chest and met in the middle, the breast collar on any other saddle. Ultimately the straps were similar to what he was familiar with, just much longer and thicker. Dessaly was well behaved throughout the entire ordeal, even when Jon accidentally pinched some of her soft underbelly scales in the strap. She'd just twitched her wings and tossed her head until Christar noticed and adjusted.

"See, not too complicated. Anybody with half a fuckin' brain could do it." Christar said with a grin. Jon looked at Dessaly, who looked unsure how she felt about having a saddle. Jon turned to look at Ghost where he'd been rolling in the snow only to see a now clean white direwolf.

"Why did you have me saddle her?" Jon asked. Christar's grin faltered as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"You, you're coming with us arent you?" Christar asked, his voice sounding slightly disappointed, as if he hadn't even considered the possibility that Jon would stay in Westeros.

"I, I'm not sure." Jon said. Christar's face fell into a frown.

"Oh." He said, before excusing himself and turning on his heel to walk briskly towards Ataim. Ataim saw his rider approaching and stood from his snow nest, turning to nuzzle his head against Christar. Christar patted Ataim's nose before scaling his leg and settling onto his back. Ataim leapt into the air, winging away towards the beach.

Jon heard the snow crunching behind him and turned to see Vaehra approaching him.

"What did you do to my rider Jon Snow?" Vaehra asked with a gentle nudge to Jon's shoulder. Jon sighed and watched as the blue shape of Ataim became smaller and smaller in the distance.

"I just said I didn't know if I was coming with you to Valyria." He said. Vaehra's face remained unchanged.

"What should I do?" Jon asked her. Vaehra hummed, turning to look at Baesegon and Vilor, who were laying pressed together in the snow. She then looked at the rest of her riders, preparing themselves and their dragons for the long flight, then finally to Dessaly, lying obediently next to Jon with her head beside his body.

"I can't make that decision for you Jon." She said. Jon's shoulders fell. He didn't know what to do.

"But," She continued, "I can offer a listening ear." Vaehra said. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, looking to Jon.

"What's stopping you?" She questioned. Jon took a deep breath. There was so much stopping him.

"I don't want to leave my family. Bran is now king, Sansa's a tyrant in the North, I have no idea where Aarya is, Rickon and Robb are dead, my father, both of them, I don't have anybody else." He said. Vaehra remained silent. It was her subtle way of prompting those she was conversing with to continue. 

"Not only that, but Westeros is my home. The North, is my home. I wasn't born into this life of, of dragons, and white walkers, I was born a Targaryen, named a Snow, raised a Stark. I don't really know who I am. The Resurrected, the White Wolf, The Lost King, I don't know if that's me." Jon said. Vaehra hummed in thought.

"Well, when we met I plucked you from the wall and brought you here. What if you return?" She questioned. Jon sighed.

"I'd be marked a deserter. And the punishment for deserters is beheading." Jon said. He could never return to the wall again, he'd already deserted once and lived, he couldn't do it again.

"And what will happen if you stay in King's Landing?" She asked. Jon puffed out his lips in thought.

"Either Sansa would send her army to fetch me, or Bran would send me to her in a box. He doesn't want a war." Jon said. He hated to think that his family would betray him that way, but he knew they were only looking out for the best interests of their kingdoms.

"Now, what if you go willingly to the North?" Vaehra asked, taking a step forward and patting Dessaly's nose. The white dragon hummed contentedly and shoved her nose further into Vaehra's hand.

"She would be angry that she couldn't get you and Christar. She'd torture me, if not kill me. She was never a fan of me." Jon said. talking to Vaehra, he realized Valyria was his best choice.

"So Jon Snow, what should you do?" Vaehra asked, resting her hand between Dessaly's eyes. Jon let out a sigh. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't make it easy. He looked to Vaehra, watching the way the wind toyed with her hair and the way she looked at Dessaly with so much love and adoration. He thought of Christar, the way his scales showed his emotions and his eyes glowed even under the stars. The thought of them made him happy. More happy than Ygritte or Daenerys ever could have. More happy than his family, and when he looked at Dessaly, he knew he could never leave her.

"Valyria is the best choice. For everybody." Jon said, stepping towards Dessaly and running his gloved hand over the ridges above her eyes. She hummed deep in her throat, pulling her head away from Vaehra and nudging her nose against Jon's sternum.

"Then you are as welcome in Valyria as Christar or I." Vaehra said, resting a gentle hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, leaning against Dessaly. She hummed at him again, opening her mouth wide. Jon chuckled and rubbed the roof of her mouth the way Vaehra had shown him the day they met. It felt like he'd known her for years, despite it only being three days. 

"Now, I'm going to go fetch Christar. Get yourself acquainted with riding in a saddle, we can't have you falling off while traveling." Vaehra said with a chuckle, stalking over to where Vilor was still curled against Baesegon's side. Jon watched as she nimbly climbed up Vilors side as easily as if she were climbing a ladder, and settled herself into the saddle on his back. She placed her dragon helm atop her head, leaning low onto the saddle and gripping the handles, then signalled for Vilor to take off. 

Jon watched the smooth movement of Vilor leaping into the air as he beat his wings. It was graceful, fluid, almost gentle in a way. Nothing like how Drogon and Rhaegal looked when taking off. The four legs must make a difference. He waited until Vilor and Vaehra were simple dots in the horizon before turning to Dessaly, pulling his hand from her mouth and patting her nose.

"Alright girl that's enough for now." He said before stepping onto her foreleg and attempting to jump to grab the spikes running along her neck and shoulders. He slipped, landing on his back on her foreleg and Dessaly chuffed at him, before gently nosing at his side. He lay on his back for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He finally rolled himself over, with the help of Dessaly, only to have her grab the collar of his cloak with her front teeth and lift him onto her back. He hung helplessly by the straps across his chest, waiting for Dessaly to set him down.

Looking around, he noticed some of the riders chuckling. He felt a blush cross his cheeks as Dessaly pushed her nose against him, leaving a broad lick across the side of his body. This caused the rest of the riders to burst into laughter.

"What?" Jon called, directing his question to the rider he recognized, Jaerla, on the back of Matanyx the red dragon. 

"Vixen's get broody!" Jaerla called. Matanyx slowly approached Dessaly, sniffing at her neck before lifting his head to sniff at Jon. Dessaly flared her wings, hissing at Matanyx as her scales stood on end the way Christar's did when he was annoyed or agitated. Matanyx pulled his head back sharply and let out a clicking noise from deep in his throat, lowering his head and flattening his scales further.

"She's treating you like a hatchling," Jaerla explained as she patted Matanyx's shoulder. He lifted his head and sniffed at Dessaly's mouth before licking the corner of her mouth. "Have fun with your new mother Jon Snow." Jaerla said as Dessaly butted her head sharply against Matanyx. Jaerla and Matanyx walked away from Dessaly, giving her space as she twisted her neck around and nuzzled her head against Jon's chest once more.

Jon patted her nose, taking a risk and nuzzling his head back against her snout. She released a happy trill from her throat, pressing her nose harder against Jon and almost knocking him over. He heard the flapping of wings as Ataim and Vilor landed in the snow on either side of he and Dessaly.

"Didn't I tell you vixen's get broody?" Christar joked from Ataim's back. Ataim sniffed at Dessaly the way Matanyx had, but avoided pushing his nose in Jon's face. Dessaly gave a few warning clicks, her scales standing up slightly. Ataim lowered his head and Dessaly's scales flattened, before she released a soft warble, pressing her nose against Ataim's, then against Jon. Ataim slowly lifted his head to sniff at Jon. Jon patted his nose, looking to Christar on Ataim's back and smiling.

"She's treating you like a hatchling now?" He heard Vaehra ask. He turned to look at Vaehra as Vilor nibbled on a few scales on Dessaly's shoulder. She clicked at him before butting her head against him and shoving him off. She turned and licked at the scales to smooth them down.

"Yeah, I suppose. She picked me up by my cloak and licked me earlier." Jon explained, gripping the saddle tightly as Dessaly shook herself out.

"That's odd, she isn't supposed to go into heat until next week." Vaehra muttered to herself.

"Well, in that case we better get going." She spoke up. She whistled sharply to the rest of the riders. They all settled in their saddles, watching for her command. She raised her voice to be heard across the camp.

"Alright, we're going to travel across the Narrow Sea and stop at the Western-most point of the Dothraki sea. We'll stop there for the night, and continue on tomorrow." Vaehra said. Sedu and Aligosa approached Dessaly, gently pressing against her and nuzzling her face. Dessaly trilled contentedly and allowed the two female dragons to sniff at Jon and nuzzle him gently.

The two dragons pulled away as Vilor stepped forward and lifted his wings, leaping into the air and taking off. Ataim followed closely after Sedu and Aligosa, with Dessaly hot on his tail. Baesegon was next, his heavy wingbeats sounding like thunder in Jon's ears. He glanced back, watching as the rest of the riders waited until he was in the air, before flanking him on either side with one behind Baesegon.

Vilor turned to face the East, propelling himself forward and flying towards Essos, the rest of the flock following closely, back towards their homes.

_I_ _n the North_

"My lady Queen," Kean addressed Sansa. He had been appointed lord commander of her queensguard as soon as she'd taken over the North. At first he was proud to be held in such high regard, but after having his nose and ribs broken by that, _dragon_ man, he was beginning to regret his position.

"What is it Kean?" Sansa asked from her seat where she'd been reviewing the stocks of resources left to decide how to divide them. She looked up at Kean, her eyes sharp. Since the Valyrian's had escaped, she had been more harsh with her men. She wanted them dead.

"We've just received word that the Valyrian's have left. They're returning to their homeland." Kean said, awaiting her outburst.

"They _what_?" Sansa snapped. She was furious. They had yet to discover just _where _the new Valyria was. All she could get out of Bran was that it was located in Essos, which was obvious as it clearly wasn't anywhere in Westeros. Bran claimed that _Vaehra _hadn't told him where exactly, but she suspected that was a lie.

"T-they left yesterday, your grace." Kean stuttered out. Sansa planted both hands flat on the table. She didn't know where the new Valyria was, but she had something that did.

"Kean, what is the status of our Valyrian prisoner?" She asked in a strangely calm voice.

"M-my Queen?" Kean asked. Sansa stood from her seat.

"Honestly, do I have to do _everything _myself?" She snapped, brushing past Kean on her way out. Kean ran after her, following closely as she stalked through the courtyard. The remaining Northern subjects seemed to shrink away from her as she walked with a purpose towards the walled off sept. The sept that was now cleared out to make room for her new toy.

"Is it awake?" She asked the guard standing watch by the door. The guard shrugged. He was too afraid to look inside. She rolled her eyes, throwing the door open and being met with a growl. She stepped inside, approaching the seething black mass of sharp scales and iron bound jaws.

"Oh shut it." Sansa said, pushing the dragon's nose away from her as it tried to bite her. The dragon lowered it's head, pushing itself against the far wall with it's scales bristling and tail lashing back and forth. Sansa looked at the stumps on it's shoulders, covered in dried blood from where she'd ordered it's wings removed.

"You know where they're going, don't you?" She asked the dragon. Kean watched from the door as Sansa approached the chains attaching the dragon to the floor of the sept. The dragon paused in it's angry growls, watching closely. It's bright green eyes followed her as she unchained it from the floor, moving towards the iron clamps around his jaws. 

"You can show me where." She said, removing the iron clamps. The dragon shook it's head and opened it's jaws experimentally, turning to Sansa and opening it's mouth wide to burn her to ash. Sansa remained where she was standing as the dragon's throat crackled and nothing came out. The dragon's flame was gone, the fire in it's throat as it crashed to the snow had destroyed it.

Sansa let out a smirk as the dragon huffed and tried lighting her on fire again, until she unchained the last chain around it's legs. The dragon watched her carefully, before surging to it's feet and leaping through the old roof of the sept, splintering the wood as it landed in the courtyard below and leapt the border wall, moving the stumps on it's back as it tried to take off. 

The dragon crashed in the snow, tumbling to a halt with a pained squeal. It stood up, shaking the snow from it's scales and turning to look at the nubs on it's back. It let out a howl before turning to look back to Winterfell, seeing the guards ready the scorpions.

"Stop!" Sansa yelled before the guards could launch the spear that would kill the dragon.

"Let it go, it will show us where we want to be." Sansa said. The dragon in the snow took off to the South-East, running at full speed.

"Follow him, but not too closely. We'll find our Valyrian's soon enough." 


End file.
